


Imladris Revisited

by HASA_Archivist



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: 3rd Age - The Stewards, Canon - Outstanding AU/reinterpretation, Characters - Outstanding OC(s), Characters - Well-handled emotions, Characters - Well-handled romance/eroticism, Plot - Can't stop reading, Plot - Good pacing, Plot - I reread often, Plot - Joy, Romance, Writing - Clear prose, Writing - Engaging style, Writing - Good use of humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-14
Updated: 2002-06-06
Packaged: 2018-03-22 22:05:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 35
Words: 57,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3745037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HASA_Archivist/pseuds/HASA_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Beautiful but spurned elf maiden Culurien, well not exactly a maiden, goes to Imladris for spiritual healing and encounters Elrond. A romantic comedy with dark undertones.</p><p>Ratings will vary from G to NC17, please note chapter headings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A New Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the HASA Transition Team: This story was originally archived at [HASA](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Henneth_Ann%C3%BBn_Story_Archive), which closed in February 2015. To preserve the archive, we began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in February 2015. We posted announcements about the move, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this author, please contact The HASA Transition Team using the e-mail address on the [HASA collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/hasa/profile).

The Third Age of Middle-earth. Year 2951

The road north from Lothlórien to Imladris was a hard one, time had not improved it. The treacherous mountain paths daunted even the hardiest of travelers.

A small band of people on horses, well armed and heavily cloaked to keep out the whirling snow had completed the trek across the high pass. They made their descent into the lower valley as night was falling. Wearily, they rode on, for this was the last leg of their journey and they hoped to reach refuge before the night grew old.

As they climbed lower, the air grew warmer and they uncovered their hands and faces. Beautiful to look upon, they were, most of them with long black hair and a bright light in their deep, grey eyes, for they were the descendants of Fingolfin of Valinor, and were the last remnants of the great princes of the Noldor in Middle-earth.

The Lady Arwen pushed back her hood and breathed in the warmth of the evening air. The journey had been a long one and although well guarded, she missed the protection of her brothers, whose ceaseless toil with the Dúnedain of the north kept the road at least passable.

The horse close behind her stumbled, sending a cascade of loose rock and pebbles toward the valley floor. Arwen looked back with concern at the rider. Her friend seemed nearly asleep, startled into wakefulness by the slippery path. “It is all right,” Arwen whispered. “We are nearly there.”

Culurien nodded, her bright eyes widening as they took in the surroundings. She unfastened her cloak and let it fall across the saddle in front of her. Her long, curly hair, golden with a touch of red, shimmered in the twilight.

The party crept slowly downwards, making nary a sound, for even horses of the Elf-Lords can move silently at will. Suddenly, ahead of the path and to their right, a voice rang out in a sharp tone of command. The language was that of Quenya, ancient tongue of the Noldor, but seldom used in Middle-earth. Culurien did not understand it. The travelers halted in their tracks. Gelmir, leader of the company, dismounted as a shadowy figure approached them, holding aloft a bright lantern which shone into their faces.

“Stay, Elemmakil, it is I, Gelmir, escort of the Lady Arwen,” he said in the same language.

Some dozen archers, standing in the darkness, relaxed their arrows at the command of the Captain of the upper gate.

“Be not surprised you find us wary,” said Elemmakil, switching to Sindarin, the common tongue of the Elves. “For you were not expected for another day.”

“We made much haste,” answered Gelmir, “traveling by night as well as by day and we are indeed weary.”

“If by that you mean ‘enough of this chit-chat,’” smiled Elemmakil, “then go on with you by all means. My Lady.” He bowed to Arwen, then faded into the darkness. At the base of the cliff they were greeted with great joy by Arminas, keeper of the Lower Gate who sent messengers ahead to alert the household.

“Welcome home my Lady,” he said to Arwen as he helped her to dismount.

“Thank you Arminas,” she said. “It is good to be back, finally.” She called to her maids. “Please assist Lady Culurien to a guest room close to my chamber while I speak with my father.”

They nodded and hurried to do her bidding. Arwen watched them escort her friend up the stairs and out of sight. Culurien, leaning upon the maids heavily, looked weary beyond all words.

_I hope I am doing the right thing for her_ , Arwen thought. She turned as she saw her father come out of the Hall of Fire, many elves trailing behind him.

Elrond Peredhil, last High Prince of the Noldor in Middle-earth, Lord of Imladris, had changed little in the century or so that had passed since Arwen had last seen him. He held out his arms and she ran into them. They embraced for a moment and drew back, each looking searchingly into the other’s face.

_One or two more lines of weariness,_ she thought as she gazed at him, for Elrond, she knew, shouldered much responsibility in the trials and troubles of Middle-earth.

Elrond smiled down at his daughter. “Well met, at last, Undómiel, your presence fills me with joy. It has been far too long since I last gazed upon you. How was the journey and what news of your grandsires and their kin?”

“All is well,” she said, “but I will speak in more detail to you after I have changed and washed.”

“Then come,” he said, pulling her arm through his. “I will escort you to your rooms.”

They walked silently up the stairs and through the great hallways of her childhood home, so different from Lothlórien where one dwelt high up among the trees. Great tapestries adorned the walls, along with many paintings and the occasional suit of elvish armor arrayed on a stand.

He left her at a far doorway, bidding her to come to his chamber as soon as she was refreshed.

Arwen bit her lip as she washed, wondering how she would tell her father about the plight of Culurien. He would be understanding of course, but would he be able to help her, she worried. It would also be awkward discussing with him semi-intimate details of her friend’s marriage, when she herself had no experience of males.

Finally, she finished her toilette and made her way to her father’s rooms. She was admitted by Lindir, her father’s servant. Elrond stood with his back to her, turning as she entered the room. He has shed his heavy robes and was clad in simple breeches and a tunic. _How much younger he looks,_ she thought, when divested of all the ‘lordly’ trappings of his position. Tall and slender, he was, with long black hair pulled back off his face. His deep grey eyes lit up at the sight of her.

“Come in, Undómiel, sit,” he said, as Lindir poured out wine. “Start talking and do not stop until morning.”

She laughed and they spoke of many things both old and new. After some time, she began to think again about that which had brought her hither. _Perhaps this will be easier than I thought,_ she mused. Elrond sat on the sofa with his legs drawn up, his arms around his knees, looking relaxed and happy, seeming for a while at any rate to have forgotten about the White Council, the threat of the Enemy and the troubles of Middle-earth.

“Adar,” she began, clearing her throat. “I have need of a favor from you.”

“You have but to name it,” he returned.

Arwen took a deep breath. “I have brought a friend with me from Lothlórien.”

Elrond raised a dark eyebrow. “Boyfriend?”

She looked at him and snorted. “No, of course not.”

“I should hope not,” Elrond jested, “since you apparently have smuggled him or her into the house without my knowledge.”

“My friend was in no condition for introductions tonight.” Arwen continued. “She is deeply troubled and I have brought her to you for healing.”

Elrond became more serious. “Go on.”

Arwen told the details of Culurien’s sorrow, as they had been related to her.

“She is very young,” she continued, “being only about six hundred or so. Much too young to get married, let alone has it arranged for her. Although she did say that she grew to love her betrothed as the engagement went on. She was not born in Lothlórien, although Gwindor was of those folk, she is one of the wood elves of Thranduil’s kin, the daughter of a cousin of his. Even though she was connected to royalty, her betrothed was considered to be of greater lineage, being a kinsman of my grandmother Galadriel, and of Noldorin descent.

“They were married and came to live at the Land of the Golden Wood. Some hundred years passed and still she had not given him a child. He was deeply concerned about having no heir, being the last of his line. He went before Celeborn and declared her to be barren. He requested an immediate annulment.”

Arwen paused and raised her eyes to Elrond’s. “As you know; such a thing is unheard of. My friend was left in complete disgrace.”

“Perhaps the, ah . . . fault, was not on her side,” Elrond said gently. Arwen shook her head.

“Nay, he remarried with haste and his bride is said to be with child already.” Arwen blushed at this point, for although she was almost three millennia old, she had lived a very sheltered life and had no experience with procreation, love, or lovers of any kind, other than what might be glimpsed from the outside of such relationships.

“I see,” said Elrond, ignoring his daughter’s embarrassment. Arwen collected herself.

“My friend was in a quandary. She could not return to her father in Eryn Galen for he would consider himself disgraced by her husband’s rejection of his daughter. She could not stay in Lórien for obvious reasons.” Arwen paused and her eyes glistened with tears. “She threw herself into the Silverlode and would have drowned if not for the swift actions of Haldir, captain of the guard. At this point I suggested that we come to Imladris, for she is full of despair still, with no hope left in her heart.”

Elrond sighed. “You, of all people should know how little skill I have in repair of the soul.”

Arwen pondered this, remembering her mother. “Then you will not help her?”

“Indeed, no,” said Elrond. “I will do what I can, although I fear it will not be enough.”

“Very well,” said Arwen, rising. “I will bring her before you in the morning.”

“Will she be up to council appearance?” he asked. “Perhaps I should visit her chamber.”

“We shall see,” said Arwen, closing the heavy door behind her.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  



	2. The Morning Council

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beautiful but spurned elf maiden Culurien, well not exactly a maiden, goes to Imladris for spiritual healing and encounters Elrond. A romantic comedy with dark undertones.

  


Culurien awoke with the morning sun in her eyes. Somebody had drawn back the curtains and was now poking her in the shoulder.

“Get up, my Lady;” said the maid, “you are summoned to appear before the Lord of the house.”

Culurien struggled into wakefulness. She positioned herself before the bowl of cold water the maid offered her and splashed it on her face. She was relieved to realize she had slept deeply through the night with no dreams to trouble her.

There was a knock on the door and Arwen entered. “Oh, I am glad to find you awake, I did not know if you would be strong enough to venture far from your rooms today. My father has bidden you to morning council, but will excuse you if you are not up to it.”

Culurien shook her head. “I will go, already I feel lighter for having spent the night in this house.”

She remembered the words of Arwen, back in Lothlórien, of the spell that was cast upon Imladris, by her father, a master of healing, that all who dwell there feel pain and suffering fall away from them. She had been there but one night, and already she felt the power of the Lord of Imladris.

“Also, I need to make amends for sneaking into this house like a thief in the night, unbidden and unlooked for.”

Arwen smiled at her. “Do not be troubled, I have already spoken of you to my father and no apology is needed.”

Culurien looked up. “Spoken...how?” she faltered, her eyes filling with despair.

“Be not afraid,” said Arwen. “He was sympathetic to your plight and will give you any help he can. You are here to be healed, not judged.” Arwen had brought a tray in with her. “You have missed breakfast, but I did not think you would care to appear in the dining hall this morning.”

There was a hot drink and a muffin, which Culurien nibbled at. Arwen waited while Culurien washed and dressed. They both wore soft warm gowns that clung to the outlines of their bodies and shimmered as they walked. Arwen had a spray of flowers trailing from her long black hair. She linked her arm through Culurien’s as they left the room.

“Tell me of this morning council,” said Culurien. “What is it like?”

Arwen thought for a moment. “Well, it is fairly formal, my father presides and the other lords of the household are there. Newcomers are presented.” She squeezed Culurien’s arm. “Problems are discussed, grievances are aired, Great Matters of State are decided,” she giggled. “Do not worry, we only have to stay long enough for you to be presented, then we may go.”

“That is not encouraging” said Culurien skeptically, “for it does indeed sound like a trial.”

“Shh,” said Arwen as they rounded a great carved statue. There lay before them a large open-air courtyard where many people were gathered.

Elrond, as was his custom, sat in an ornately carved oaken chair. Arwen’s eyes widened in surprise at the sight of him, for he was not dressed in his traditional council robes, but the same raiment she had seen him in the night before - tunic and breeches, his shirt open at the throat and soft leather boots on his feet.

_I wonder if he has even been to bed,_ she thought, although he did not look weary. On his left sat Erestor and to his right sat Glorfindel, both mighty lords of Imladris. Calen, Elrond’s scribe, sat behind a wooden table, quill in hand, busily writing on parchment.

Elrond sat with his chin cupped in his hand, listening to the bickering of two elves that stood before him. It seemed they were arguing about the ownership of some sheep.

Glorfindel rolled his eyes. “You should know better, Halithir, and you Beriand, than to bring before this council matters of such triviality when you can easily work them out amongst yourselves. It should be fairly obvious who the sheep in question belong to, all you need do is ask them.”

Elrond moved his hand to hide his mouth, and his twinkled. He was amused at the indignation of his oldest friend.

During this exchange, Arwen had positioned Culurien in the appropriate spot, and then had gone to stand behind her father. As the two elves (still arguing) were dismissed, she leaned forward and whispered in Elrond’s ear. He looked toward Culurien and said in a pleasant voice, “approach the council, please.”

Culurien took a deep breath and slowly walked forward. She knelt before Elrond and bowed her head.

“What is your name, child?” he asked, for Arwen had not told him. She looked up.

“Culurien,” she whispered.

“Golden-red,” he said softly, looking at her hair. “How very apt.”

“It was given to me by my father when I was of a very young age,” she said, gazing at him.

“He chose well,” said Elrond. He tilted his head. “What is it you wish of me, Culurien?”

Her eyes glistened. “I wish to reside in Imladris and be subject to the Master of Healing, for I am much wounded in mind and soul.”

Elrond leaned forward and placed his long, slender fingers on the side of her face, touching temple, cheek and chin. He spoke for several moments, words of healing in Quenya, which she did not understand. He looked into her eyes and held her gaze for a long moment. “Be at peace, child of Eru Ilúvatar.* Thy tribulations are not of thy doing and you should suffer no more shame in this matter. May all the Lords of the Valar bless you, for you are more than worthy. Be at peace,” he repeated softly. “Let all of your cares fall by the wayside, for you are truly blessed.”

He took her hand and brought her to her feet. “You may call Imladris your home, for you are welcome in my house until the end of days.”

“Thank you,” she said softly, lowering her eyes. “For this I am very grateful.”

She curtsied and made her way to the side of the courtyard where Arwen joined her.

“Back to business,” sighed Elrond, his eyes never leaving her as they walked away. He picked up a piece of parchment as he sat down. “Falahir, come forward and state your grievance,” he said to a tall elf standing nearby. And so the morning went on.

“I thought that went rather well,” Arwen said, as they walked down the hallway.

“Yes,” said Culurien, “your father was much more approachable than I thought he would be.”

Arwen smiled to herself, wondering if that could be the reason for Elrond’s unprecedented lack of formal attire at the meeting. He could be a very intimidating figure when regally decked out. Perhaps he realized how frightening that would have been to Arwen’s shy friend.

“So” Arwen said, “Did that help any? How do you feel?”

Culurien did not answer right away. “I feel more rested than I have in some time, more relaxed and able to breathe easier. Only when he spoke to me, my heart felt as though it was pounding loud enough for all to hear and the room seemed to grow hazy and misty as if we were under some kind of spell.”

“And so you were,” said Arwen. “My father has many strong powers and not the least among them is enchantment by words alone.” She looked searchingly at her friend’s face. Already she could see lines of weariness smoothed away. “This may take some time, but I think that we made the right choice in bringing you here.” Arwen put her arm around Culurien’s shoulder.

“Come, let me show you the gardens, they are beautiful even in midwinter and it is long since I have laid eyes upon them.”

Culurien smiled as she walked.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

*The One, the Creator


	3. The Hall of Kings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beautiful but spurned elf maiden Culurien, well not exactly a maiden, goes to Imladris for spiritual healing and encounters Elrond. A romantic comedy with dark undertones.

Several days had passed in that blissful place before Elrond sought out Culurien in her rooms to inquire about her health. She had seen very little of him, for she took all of her meals in her chamber and did not wander about the place much. Her appetite was coming back slowly, although the food on the tray was indeed tempting, she had not the heart to do more than nibble at it. She had been very thin and haggard looking when Arwen brought her here and though the torment in her soul had eased somewhat, the thinness was still with her.

Elrond took a keen look at her and touched her forehead for a long moment. "I think perhaps it is time for a tonic of some sort. If you would accompany me to the Hall of Healing, I will prepare something for you."

Culurien acquiesced and they walked down the stairs to the ground floor room. The Hall they entered was seldom used and they were alone. Elves do not get sick, although they occasionally die of grief and despair. It had been many a long year since the Hall had tended the wounded of the battlefield.

Elrond started a fire in the hearth and then spent several minutes selecting various jars from the shelves. Culurien looked over his shoulder with interest, asking him to name the different ingredients as he added them to the steaming water, "for I was considered to be something of an herbalist among my own people.”

"If the subject interests you" he responded, "I will gladly give you my knowledge, for I could use an assistant, especially in the gathering of plants and such. It is becoming a lost art in this house, for although I record much information, none so far have been inclined to learn it. Perhaps I should make it part of the school work for the youngsters." He smiled wryly. "Then perhaps, not," he continued. "For I have not the patience to teach those who have no wish to learn. It is too early yet for the collection of leaves, but there are many roots we could go in search of once your strength returns."

With that said, he ladled some of the liquid through a mesh screen into a silver tankard.

Culurien felt refreshed by just the scent as he handed it to her.

"Let it cool," Elrond advised. "Just breathe the fragrance for a while."

Culurien sat down at the long wooden table and watched her host as he put the jars back in their places. Very exotic looking, she thought him, with his dark hair and eyes and floor length, rich-looking robes of a deep burgundy color. Most of her kinspeople had very pale blond hair and bright blue eyes. The males mostly wore tunics and breeches or long knit stockings close to what Elrond was wearing when she first saw him. Even in Lothlórien, where the people were more akin to the people of Imladris, the males wore leggings of some sort, robes being unsuitable for tree climbing. Quite often the females wore similar attire. _But then,_ she thought, _such elaborate garments suited this place for this was no cave or tree house, with its thick carpets and lush tapestries._

"All finished?" he asked with a smile. She looked in her cup. It was empty. She did not even remember drinking it.

"Excellent" he said, taking it from her. "We will do this every day for a while, I think. It has certainly put the color back in your cheeks."

She reddened further, not believing it to have been the tonic which achieved this.

Elrond held out his hand she took it, standing up. "Perhaps you would do me the honor of sitting next to me at dinner in the hall tonight?" She was silent. "The longer one hides oneself away, the harder it is to gather strength to emerge."

"I do not think so, just yet," Culurien answered slowly.

"Well then, come walk with me," he said. "Only through exercise and relief of boredom will your appetite return and you regain that which you have lost."

He took her arm and embarked on a lively tour of the great house of Imladris, which men call Rivendell. It was some time before he allowed her to stop and rest and she sank gratefully onto a stone bench.

"There," Elrond said, looking down at her. "You look better already.” For her eyes were sparkling and her cheeks flushed from exertion, a smile on her face at his humorous recount of some long ago acrobats as they passed through the Hall of Fire.

"Stay, you will be the death of me, Lord," Culurien jested as she struggled to regain her breath, lost from walking so long and then from laughter.

"Alas, no," Elrond said with mock seriousness. "That would be in direct opposition to all we are trying to achieve here." He waited for Culurien to compose herself. "I have but one more thing I would like to show you today, and then I will let you be," he said, pulling her to her feet. "It is not far, only a little way down to the left."

They walked more slowly and Culurien was grateful. They stopped before an ornately carved, massive, wooden set of doors, closed, but not locked. Elrond used both hands to turn the long handle and stepped back, pulling the heavy door open. The room seemed cavernous, but the light was dim as there were few windows and daylight was waning. Elrond took a torch from the corridor and lit it. With that, he moved confidently into the semi darkness, lighting sconces along the walls as he walked. When there was ample light, he came back to the doorway for Culurien, who was standing outside, shivering from the cold draft that flowed out of the great archway.

"This is called the Hall of Kings," he said somberly, taking her hand and leading her inside. Culurien gasped as she looked at the room in front of her. It was the largest Hall she had ever seen, with massive arched ceiling beams and huge stone fireplaces. It appeared as though an army stood ready to march, for the walls were lined with figures in elvish armor, carrying huge scimitars. Immense standards of many shapes and colors were suspended from the vaulted ceiling, though some were ripped and tattered beyond repair or recognition. As they walked slowly down the center of the room, Culurien could see great carved statues, some of wood some of stone, standing tall, every twenty feet or so, amongst the elvish warriors.

Elrond was quiet for a long while.

"In this hall still live the great Kings and Kingdoms of Old," he finally said.

"You see before you all that are left of the ancient realms of the Eldar in Middle Earth. Doriath and Nargothrond, Gondolin, Nevrast, Lindon and Hísilómë. From the ceiling hang their battle standards and on the far walls you see the likenesses of their kings, most of them, my ancestors." He named each one as he pointed to them in turn.

"Elu Thingol, Fingolfin, Finarfin and Fëanor. Their sons, Fingon, Turgon and Finrod. Their sons, Gil-galad and Eärendil.

He paused and stared with vacant eyes at the likeness of Gil-galad, for a long moment, his thoughts faraway. Culurien touched his arm and he jumped, startled back into the present.

"I am sorry, forgive me," he said as he turned to the other side of the Hall.

"On this side are the great leaders and kings of men, for they are akin to me as well." He named, "Bëor, Barahir, Beren, Huor, Tuor and Túrin. Then come the Kings of Númenor, my brother Elros and his descendants, but there are too many of them to be represented here, save for a few. Elendil, for example. And also the heirlooms of the kingdoms of Gondor and Arnor. The Sceptre of Annúminas and Narsil, the sword of Elendil."

Culurien listened to this dissertation with an expression of awe on her face. When Elrond had finished they stood in silence. All of these trappings of ancient kingdoms seemed far removed from her simple life in Eryn Galen, where the record of such times was not remembered or revered, for her people were not akin to the Eldar of Valinor.

Elrond extinguished the sconces and they left the Hall of Kings, pushing the door closed behind them. They walked in silence back to Culurien's room where he took his leave of her, promising to bring her more of the tonic in the morning.

"If you call for me and show me once again, I will remember how to make it myself and not trouble you with it anymore."

A small smile curved his lips as he turned and walked away, saying nothing.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  



	4. Preparing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beautiful but spurned elf maiden Culurien, well not exactly a maiden, goes to Imladris for spiritual healing and encounters Elrond. A romantic comedy with dark undertones.

Culurien stared after him, a puzzled expression on her face. _What did I say,_ she thought, _that would be amusing to him?_ She shrugged, dismissing the matter from her mind. She sought out Arwen's room where Culurien knew she would be dressing for dinner. She had not seen her friend and hostess for a day and a half. The door was opened by one of Arwen's maids, who stepped to the side to admit her.

Arwen was already dressed and seated at a small desk, submitting to having strings of jewels woven through her hair. She jumped up when Culurien entered and ran to embrace her friend. "I apologize to you," she said. "I meant to look in on you earlier, but I have been a little preoccupied."

"Stay, Arwen, relax," exclaimed Culurien, who was nearly pushed over by the energy of her friend's welcome. She looked at Arwen's face with wonder, for the lady positively glowed.

"What in all of Arda* are you on about?" she asked.

Arwen lowered her voice. "I must talk with you.”

Culurien raised her eyebrows. "I am listening.”

With a wave of her hand, Arwen dismissed her maids and led her friend to sit next to her on the sofa.

"Last night I was out walking in the forest," she started. "I was alone, which I am actually not allowed to do, even in Imladris. There, as I was walking, I met someone." Here, at this point, excitement showed in her dark grey eyes.

"It was a Man," she said, squeezing her friend's hand.

Culurien looked confused. "A mortal, you mean, a visitor?"

"Nay," said Arwen, "he said he lives here."

Such a thing was unheard of in Culurien's experience. Mortals did not live with elves, at least not in Eryn Galen or Lothlórien. Imladris, however, had a reputation for being a refuge for many a struggling wayfarer, be he man, dwarf, or elf and Elrond was a generous host.

_But live here?_ Culurien was astounded.

Arwen went on. "He told me his name was Estel and that he was heir to Isildur, which I had already guessed, for the heirs to the throne of Gondor have all been raised in Imladris, ever since Isildur was slain and the kingdom lost. My father feels an obligation to the descendants of the kings of Númenor for they are of his blood.

“Also, he wants them to grow up learning the wisdom of the Eldar if they are to be good kings, should the throne be regained.

Here, she paused and laughed. "He is only twenty years old, such a new-born babe by our reckoning, but mortals need to grow quicker, I would imagine. He is very compelling, somehow." She had a faraway look in her eyes.

Culurien stared at her friend. "Arwen, am I wrong or does this not bode well? You talk as if you were falling in love with him!"

"Of course I am not," said she, talking a little too loudly. "I am merely intrigued, that is all. I have known few mortals."

She was a little piqued by Culurien's apparent disapproval; she would like to have confided a little more in her friend, but now she did not know if she dared.

"Is this paragon going to be at dinner this evening?" Culurien asked.

"I have no idea," Arwen said, "but will you come down tonight? I will point him out if he is there."

Culurien made a snorting noise. Mortals were all too easy to spot, as far as she was concerned, even with her limited experience of them.

"I am not dressed.....," she began.

Arwen jumped up, saying, "there is time, come, I will help you."

Culurien was still reluctant. "Your father already extended to me a special invitation to sit next to him and I declined. If I show up now, I would be obliged to do so and you would not be able to do any pointing at all."

"No matter," said Arwen. "You should be able to tell who he is without me. Echoing Culurien's earlier thoughts. Come, please, there will not be time after all if we sit here dawdling."

Culurien reflected on how Elrond's daughter disliked taking no for an answer. _The privilege of her position, no doubt,_ she mused, allowing herself to be led back to her own room.

She had only brought two evening gowns with her, hoping to have more made eventually, and really too depressed at the time to give her wardrobe much consideration before they left Lothlórien. Much to her dismay, both dresses hung on her like sacks.

"Stay," said Arwen. “I am smaller than you, or at least I was, something of mine should fit you better." She rushed from the room while Culurien sat in her shift, looking forlornly at herself in the mirror. _You are a right little waif,_ she thought. Though if the truth be told, she had increased more inches during her marriage than she would care to admit, so she did not look as bad as all that at the present. _Thank Eru I did not lose my bust,_ she thought, pulling the shift tight for a moment.

Arwen's re-entry into the room with an armful of gowns made her start, and she fell back into the chair heavily. To Culurien's consternation, all three gowns fit her like a glove and were all very provocative, being low-cut, thin and clingy.

"You have worn these?" she gasped when she could find breath.

Arwen nodded. "I did in Lothlórien, when it was warm. I do not know why I even brought them to Imladris; Father would skin me alive if he saw any of them on me."

"It is not warm and we are not in Lothlórien," Culurien argued.

"You are difficult to please," Arwen retorted, annoyed. "I thought you wanted something that fit."

"But… but..." stammered Culurien. "Oh, never mind," she sighed. "I must have a shawl around here some place."

"Well, either that or wear your own dresses," said Arwen, still slightly peeved. "At any rate, you may keep them. Father will certainly not skin you alive."

_Most assuredly not,_ thought Culurien, remembering the expression she caught in Elrond's eyes once or twice this afternoon.

"Here, sit," said Arwen, changing the subject and smiling. "Let me fix your hair while there is time."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

*Earth


	5. Dinner...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beautiful but spurned elf maiden Culurien, well not exactly a maiden, goes to Imladris for spiritual healing and encounters Elrond. A romantic comedy with dark undertones.

When Arwen and Culurien entered the great dining hall, many people were already seated, both at the long large table in the center of the room, and also at the many side tables. The room did not usually boast such a large gathering, but this was Arwen's official home-coming feast which had taken the kitchens many days to prepare. Unfortunately this fact had not been made known to Culurien by either Arwen or Elrond and she shrank back, dismayed, clutching her shawl closer.

Arwen noticed her friend flinch and put her arm around her. "Actually, I had forgotten about this. Hush," she continued, "Father has seen us, and there is no escape now."

Indeed, Elrond was approaching them even as she said the words.

He was sitting in his chair at the head of the table, speaking seriously to Erestor, when Arwen and Culurien entered the room. His eyes lit up when he saw his daughter, then widened with surprise and pleasure when he saw her companion. He leaned toward Glorfindel and gave him a hurried whisper. Glorfindel raised his eyebrows and moved one seat over. Elrond rose and crossed the hall quickly.

_Culurien looked much improved,_ he reflected. She was wearing a long silver shawl, wrapped loosely around her shoulders and the dress beneath it looked interesting, to say the least. Her hair fell in loose tendrils around her face and was entwined with silver and white flowers.

Elrond finally made his way through to them and offered each lady an arm. He noted Culurien's apprehension and gave her arm a re-assuring squeeze between his elbow and his side.

"Both of you ladies look stunning," he said appreciatively. He glanced down at Culurien and actually stumbled as they walked. The silver shawl had slipped away somewhat and he found himself staring at an ample expanse of white cleavage. She looked up at him when he tripped and hurriedly adjusted the shawl.

Arwen, totally oblivious, was searching the room for her new friend. Elrond reddened and kept his eyes firmly fastened on the far side of the room, where Glorfindel was watching their approach with interest.

Elrond assisted Arwen into her seat at the middle of the table and continued with Culurien to the end. He introduced her to Glorfindel and Erestor, whom she had not actually formally met and held out the chair for her. She looked up at him and their eyes met briefly. She gave him a shaky looking smile. _She is not ready for this,_ he thought. _I wonder what made her change her mind?_

With Arwen's arrival the banquet was officially begun, although at least four people at the great table barely noticed the tempting food, their minds being elsewhere.

Elrond glanced down the table to his left, his eyes lingering on his foster son, Aragorn, son of Arathorn, affectionately known as Estel,* whom he had raised from infancy, his father having been slain by orcs. Elrond had only just recently informed Aragorn of his true name and lineage which had been kept secret up until now, and, Elrond cautioned him, should still be kept secret for the Enemy still searched for the heirs of Isildur, believing them to have knowledge of the One Ring.

Aragorn seemed to be looking intently ahead of him, perhaps having a silent conversation with someone at a distance. Elrond shifted his gaze across the table and saw Arwen, his daughter, most definitely flirting with the mortal young man, while giggling behind her hand to the lady sitting next to her.

Elrond's dark eyebrows came together in a scowl. _Why on Arda,_ he wondered, _did Arwen not stay in Lothlórien another hundred years or so?_ Then he remembered Culurien and glanced down at her thinking how inattentive a host he had been. His pulse quickened, for the shawl had slipped down once again. Culurien had not noticed as she talked animatedly with Glorfindel. Elrond found himself staring absentmindedly at her breasts.

Glorfindel looked up, caught his eye and winked. Elrond turned hastily away. _This will not do,_ he thought. _You must maintain a grip on yourself._ He turned his attention firmly to his plate and ate for a while.

Culurien felt her apprehension melt away as she talked with Glorfindel, who was charming and witty, and was also doing his best to entertain her. She reached for her glass of wine and took a sip while she moved her free hand to check the shawl and nearly choked.

Not only had the treacherous shawl slipped down, but the front of the dress seemed to be making a retreat as well. She sprang to her feet, knocking the glass of wine across the tablecloth and quickly fled the room. At the doorway she spoke to a servant who indicated a chamber across the corridor where the ladies maids sat, waiting for summons from their mistresses.

_Damn Arwen, and damn her dresses!_ she thought uncharitably. She would definitely be making some alterations to them in the morning.

Elrond sat frozen with his fork in front of his face and his mouth open.

"What did you say to her?" he asked, turning to Glorfindel.

"I?" asked Glorfindel, surprised. "I said nothing, not one thing." His face was the perfect picture of innocence. He looked down into his wine glass and his lips lifted in a smirk. "Perhaps she was cold.”

Elrond's face darkened. "You will please treat my dinner guest with more respect.”

Glorfindel looked up quickly at Elrond, and then looked down again. "I meant no offence.”

"Than do not give any," snapped Elrond, a bit more testily than was called for.

They turned to their plates and chewed sulkily for a few minutes.

_What is the matter with me,_ Elrond thought. _Glorfindel is merely acting like he always does, it is I who am being difficult._ He reached across the empty chair and put his hand on Glorfindel's arm. "Mellon,* forgive my harsh words, I am not myself tonight."

Glorfindel looked up and opened his mouth to speak, but at that moment Culurien came back to the table. Elrond quickly pulled back his hand and he and Glorfindel both stood.

"Pray, be seated," Culurien said, slipping into the chair, the shawl securely pinned in several places. "My apologies for leaving so abruptly."

“What happened Lady, were you ill?” asked Elrond, looking suspiciously at the plates.

"No, no," said Culurien, "I only had urgent need of an adjustment."

"Are you sure there is nothing I can assist you with?" asked Glorfindel, with an amazingly straight face. Elrond, who had just taken a sip of his wine, began having difficulty swallowing it.

"My Lord?" She turned towards him anxiously.

He held up his hand. "I am fine," he said from behind his napkin.

The fish course was set before them and all three gave it their full attention.

Elrond smiled to himself. He felt oddly pleased that Culurien was not making a public showing of her attributes on purpose. The shawl and dress must be borrowed, he speculated, for silver was not really her color. He was sure he had never seen the gown before, for it was quite distinctive. A thought occurred to him and he looked down the table at Arwen and frowned, although she was behaving herself, finally.

_It is well she is back in Imladris,_ he thought, despite growing concern about Estel, for she seems in need of firm guidance and Lothlórien was far too bohemian a place to receive it.

The rest of the banquet went by without incident. Finally, Elrond rose and offered his arm to Culurien and they left the room, signaling that the feast was over. Glorfindel hurried down the side of the table and offered his arm to Arwen before Aragorn could get there. Arwen looked from Glorfindel to Aragorn, then back to Glorfindel again.

"He is in a touchy mood, you best be cautious," murmured Glorfindel, who had witnessed the interplay between Arwen and the young man.

"Thank you, Glorfindel; I did notice him scowling at me earlier." Arwen gave Aragorn a look of resignation and they left the dining hall.

The minstrels were playing a lively tune as Arwen and Glorfindel entered the Hall of Fire. They took seats next to Elrond and Culurien. The Hall filled and as the evening wore on, several different entertainments sprang up in the various corners of the great room. Mostly, however, in the area where Culurien was seated, there were songs sung about Elbereth, Valinor and ancient times in the language of Quenya, which she did not understand. She had a hard time controlling her yawns. Elrond sat with his eyes half closed, listening intently.

"Adar," said Arwen suddenly, and Elrond started. "Yes?" he asked, struggling to look alert.

"Culurien has a beautiful voice," Arwen continued, and the lady in question suppressed a strong urge to kick her friend sharply in the ankle.

"Indeed," said Elrond, sitting up a little straighter.

"Yes," Arwen went on, oblivious to Culurien's increasing distress. "Perhaps we can persuade her to honor us."

Elrond looked at Culurien and her eyes pleaded with him silently.

"Maybe another time," he said gently. "You must allow your friend a chance to settle in and recover, Arwen." He stood. "Come, ladies, walk about and enjoy the other entertainments."

Culurien took the arm he offered her. "Thank you," she said as they walked. "I fear I have made a public spectacle of myself enough for one night."

Elrond ignored the comment. "You enjoy singing?"

"Well, it has been some time since my heart has been light enough for such pleasures," she returned. "But I did once, yes."

"I will not press you," he said, "but there are many beautiful sad songs, perhaps something of that nature?"

"Alas, I do not know any. In fact, I do not think any of the songs I know would be fitting for this place."

Elrond smiled at her. "Perhaps you could honor me with a private concert and let me be the judge of that." His eyes twinkled.

Culurien looked at the floor. "Certainly, Lord. Whenever you wish it."

Elrond stopped walking. He turned to face her squarely and looked into her eyes. "Nay, Lady. It will happen when ever **you** wish it." He paused for a moment to let his words sink in, and then he turned and continued walking.

They came to a group of people dancing and paused to watch.

"That is a very pretty dance," Culurien said. "I have never seen it before. What is it called?"

"Lendrill," Elrond replied. "Let me show you the basic step."

They moved a little apart from the dancers. He took her left hand in his right, she put her right hand on his shoulder, and he had his left arm encircling her waist. They stood side to side.

"Now," he instructed. "Watch my feet. Step out with the left, then slide right, wait a beat, kick left, yes, back, back, slide left..."

Culurien stumbled, and then stopped altogether. "It might be easier if I could see your feet," she remarked. "I fear I am too clumsy for this, at any rate."

"Perhaps we will try again another time," said Elrond, smiling. “Slower, with less clothing." Suddenly, she felt very weary.

"Forgive me," Elrond said, looking into her face. "I perceive that you are tired. It was your first day out and about and I have worn you down. Allow me to escort you to your room."

They left the hall and walked back to her chamber in silence. It did indeed seen like a long age had passed since he had made the tonic for her in the Hall of Healing, that morning.

When they reached her door, Culurien turned to him firmly. "Tomorrow you will show me how to make the tonic.”

Elrond raised his eyebrows. "You have only to speak the command, Lady, and it shall be done."

He took her hand and kissed it, his eyes lingering on hers for a moment, and then he took his leave.

She stood in the doorway, staring at her hand as if mesmerized. Finally, she shook herself out of the daydream. _This will not do,_ she thought. _You must maintain a grip on yourself._

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

*Hope

*Friend


	6. The Road Ahead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beautiful but spurned elf maiden Culurien, well not exactly a maiden, goes to Imladris for spiritual healing and encounters Elrond. A romantic comedy with dark undertones.

Rated: G

 

Elrond returned to his chair in the Hall of Fire and stared distractedly into the flames blazing on the great hearth. The singing and dancing still went on, and would continue far into the night. He wondered absently where Arwen and Aragorn were, for most of the chairs around him were empty.

A servant came up behind Elrond and touching him on the shoulder, whispered intently in his ear.

Elrond looked around and spotted Glorfindel conversing with a group of elves a few dozen feet away.

Elrond caught his eye and beckoned to him. "I have need of you," he said when Glorfindel came within earshot. "Please locate Arwen and Aragorn then meet me in the library."

Glorfindel nodded directing the servant one way, and then he took the other.

The library of Imladris was not an especially large room, but appearances can be deceiving. What it lacked in girth, it made up for in height, for it was a full two stories tall. There were no windows, it being a central room, except for a small skylight in the ceiling far above. The fireplaces, which were kept lit continuously to protect the books from the damp, did nothing to dispel the musty odor which permeated the room.

There was not a single inch of space, from floor to ceiling that was not covered with books, many of them ancient and rotted despite the dryness of the air. The upper shelves were reached by great wooden ladders, which could be moved from side to side. Along one of the walls, a narrow balcony ran.

There were two elves warming themselves in front of the largest fireplace, one of them holding his hands out, the other choosing to expose his opposite side to the flames.

Their clothes were worn and travel-stained, their persons dirty and disheveled (for elves). Their names were Elladan and Elrohir, the twin sons of Elrond, briefly returned from their toil with the Dúnedain, men akin to Aragorn who were the descendants of the kings of Númenor in exile.

There was not a ford or bridge, road or river that was not ceaselessly watched by these vigilant folk, guarding the North from the servants of the Enemy.

The door was opened and Elrond stepped into the room. He embraced each of his sons in turn, very pleased to see them.

"What brings you hither?" he asked with a smile. "You are finally taking a rest from your labors, I hope?"

"Nay, Adar," said Elladan, shaking his head. "Our toils increase rather than diminish, but they brought us to the borders of Imladris, so we have come for Estel, as previously arranged. He is of age now."

"Aye, I suspected that was the reason for this unaccustomed visit, I have all ready sent for him."

A shadow fell over the threshold and Arwen came in. She saw her brothers and shrieked with delight, hugging them both at once.

Elrohir looked at his sister with astonishment. "What are you doing here, Arwen?” he asked. "We thought you were in Lothlórien!"

Elladan became stern. “You traveled across the high pass without us?"

"It was an unexpected journey," replied Arwen. “Adar knew I was coming and I was well protected, I assure you. If you had been available, you could have assisted me, but you were not and I knew not where you were.”

Her brothers looked only a little less nettled. Elrond smiled at his progeny. His sons were as handsome as Arwen was beautiful and all were much akin to Elrond himself. There was a great stamp of family resemblance on the four of them.

At that moment Glorfindel came in, followed by Aragorn.

"Estel !" The twins cried in unison, coming forward and slapping him on the back.

"How you have grown!" exclaimed Elladan.

Elrohir smiled. "Well met, little brother!"

Aragorn glowed with pleasure at the sight of his older foster brothers. Arwen had not known Aragorn shared such comradery with her brothers, having spent his entire childhood away in Lothlórien.

Aragorn smiled happily. "You have come for me at last!"

"Yes, indeed, for now is the time in which you begin preparation for the task long appointed to you," said Elladan. (He was the elder twin and therefore, more pompous than his brother.)

Arwen sank into a nearby chair, her face an unreadable mask.

Elrond stood, leaning against a bookcase, saying nothing as he watched his daughter with narrowed eyes.

Glorfindel was questioning the twins for information about events taking place in the outside world and Aragorn listened eagerly.

Finally, Elrond took Arwen by the hand. "Come, Undómiel, for I would speak with you."

Arwen paled slightly, but allowed Elrond to lead her out into the hallway. They walked in silence for a while, away from the sounds of merry-making in the Hall of Fire.

After a short time Elrond spoke. "Is there anything you wish to tell me?"

"I do not think so," Arwen whispered, looking at the floor.

Elrond sighed. Seeing no point in mincing words, he asked bluntly, "what is there between you and Estel?"

Arwen did not answer. "Is it serious?" he persisted.

"I do not know," she whispered.

Elrond stopped and took her in his arms. "Undómiel, my heart is breaking. I foresee for you the same fate as Lúthien the fair."

Arwen looked into his face, the tears glistening as they ran down her cheeks, for she loved her father dearly.

"I do not see the road ahead as clearly as you do," she said. "But I know I will follow my heart, although the end may be bitter for some."

He looked into her eyes, his tears flowing as freely as hers.

"That is the wisdom I would give you, were you to ask me," he whispered. "For your heart will be able to distinguish lies from truths."

"But what if my choice should cause another grief?" she asked. "Grief so great that it might well be unbearable?"

She laid her head on Elrond's shoulder and he stroked her hair. "Do not despair for me, Undómiel, for I can see much of the future and I do not think death from grief is a part of it. At least not for some," he added in a whisper.

They stood, still as statues for some while. Finally, Arwen tossed her hair back and brushed away her tears.

"Really, Adar," she said. "You do jump ahead. After all, I have only just met him."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  



	7. Memories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beautiful but spurned elf maiden Culurien, well not exactly a maiden, goes to Imladris for spiritual healing and encounters Elrond. A romantic comedy with dark undertones.

Rated: PG

Breakfast in the dining hall the next morning was a cheerful affair, with the twins entertaining the company with many humorous tales that they had accumulated during their adventurous lives.

It was mid-afternoon before they took their leave, the party increased by the addition of several young elves, eager for experience of the world outside Imladris.

Elrond gave his blessing to all and stood gazing after them a long while as their horses climbed the narrow path out of the valley.

_The world outside grows dark,_ he thought. Then he stood in shock as the land of Mordor unveiled itself before him, for he did not usually have any sight behind the shadow. In his mind's eye he saw the flame burst forth from the mountain of Orodruin.*

_Not that it has happened yet,_ he thought with a shudder. _But it will._ He could feel the Great Eye pass over him, searching for that which he had kept hidden.

How long he would have stood there is hard to say, if Culurien, who had not witnessed the departure of the twins, hadn't stepped up to him and poked him in the shoulder, bringing him back to the present.

She looked mischievous. "Tonic," she reminded him.

He stared at her blankly, unable to shake off the effects of his vision.

"What is it?" she asked, searching his face. "You look as though you have seen a ghost."

He shuddered again, coming back to reality with a great effort. "Not a ghost," he said quietly, "but definitely a demon."

She stood silently next to him, sometimes staring where he did, sometimes looking up at his profile. Her mother used to have visions, although it was not a gift she had passed along to her daughter. Culurien knew better than to try to hasten the journey back to every day triviality, so she waited quietly.

He broke through it, suddenly, and started a little. "What was it you said to me?"

"Tonic," she repeated, a smile dimpling her cheeks.

"Yes of course," he murmured, turning back into the house.

He made the potion once again and she committed the ingredients to memory.

"Would you like pen and paper to record this?"

She shook her head, embarrassed. "I really do not write very well.”

"Well, that is a skill I can help you with," he said seriously. "For if you are to work in this room, you will need to keep records.

She drank the tonic without responding. There was a definite restorative power to it, she felt the effects immediately.

"Would you like some?" She offered him the tankard. "For you look a little grey this morning."

"Thank you, I will have just a little." He smiled at her and she thought she could hear her heart beating.

"Have you any plans today?" he asked.

Culurien shook her head. "Nothing definite.”

"Well, it is not my fate to have any time for pleasure this day," he said, "for I have let many duties slide in the excitement of the past week. However, make yourself free of the house and grounds. You may come and go whither you like, there are no restricted areas." He smiled. "Except perhaps the male public bath, although I suspect they would welcome you."

She was interested. "I assume there is a female public bath?"

"Of course," he replied. "Any servant can direct you."

"Then that is my first priority.”

He rose. "Very well then. I will leave you to it."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The baths of Imladris were well used since most of the chambers in the main house did not boast a private one and elves have a love of personal cleanliness akin to cats.

One side of the room was open to the natural flow of a small waterfall with a stone ledge one could step out on. Most of the room, however, was taken up by a great pool, fed by warm mineral springs which flowed out of the mountain.

Culurien opted for the pool, being disinclined to experience the icy water from the mountain top, for it was not yet spring.

She let the sensuous feel of the warm water lull her into a trance and she felt more relaxed than she had in some time.

The sounds of splashing awoke her. There was much frivolity taking place, for elven children loved to play in the water. And the adults as well, she thought, trying not to look too closely. A pretty blonde elf swam close by her and smiled. Culurien smiled back, not wishing to appear rude, but hastily turned her attention elsewhere. She reached for her towel. _Perhaps the waterfall after all, next time,_ she thought.

After she had refreshed herself at the bath, Culurien took Elrond's advice and walked about Imladris, which was not a house so much as a small city. She became lost and then found again many times, for the ways were confusing.

She spent many days entertaining herself in this fashion, alone mostly, for Elrond was kept busy in the management of his house and she saw him little. Arwen was not feeling very sociable and preferred to be solitary.

Culurien did not feel abandoned though, for the place was fascinating and a blissful essence pervaded the atmosphere. She spent many hours in the Hall of Fire, listening to the musicians rehearse and making friends of them. When she shyly began to join in with them, singing, they were impressed. Lindir, who played the mandolin and also did duties as Elrond's personal servant, encouraged her the most.

"Next feast day, you must make your debut and sing with us," he pleaded.

Culurien was non-committal and evasive. "We shall see.”

And so her life went on in this manner for a long while, relaxing and restorative, her strength and appetite returning until she felt quite herself again.

Elrond watched her recover with much relief for he was ever doubtful of his skill at healing sadness and despair, which had not been very effective in the past.

_Perhaps my power has increased with age,_ he wondered thoughtfully, or possibly Imladris was just the right place at the right time for Culurien, which it had most decidedly not been for Celebrían. The memory of his wife darkened his face with sorrow and anger both.

Arwen was sitting next to him and they were at dinner, a much smaller gathering in a much smaller, more informal room than the Great Dining Hall.

"What ails you, my Father?" she asked, "at whom are you scowling?"

"Scowling, I?" said Elrond in surprise. "I never scowl."

"No, of course not," she said, "and the sun does not rise and set every day, either. And now I have caused you to frown even more.”

His face relaxed a little. "I am sorry. I was just lost in the past for a while. Forgive me."

Arwen rose, kissed him on the cheek and left the room, leaving him to his dark thoughts.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

*Mt. Doom


	8. Elvish New Year

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beautiful but spurned elf maiden Culurien, well not exactly a maiden, goes to Imladris for spiritual healing and encounters Elrond. A romantic comedy with dark undertones.

Rated: PG

 

Culurien learned much from Elrond that spring. They spent some time together, hiking through the forests, collecting berries, plants and roots to replenish the supplies in the Hall of Healing. He helped her improve her writing skills until she showed great competency, both in that area and the knowledge of herb lore.

Culurien also learned that Elrond was apt to be moody; relaxed and pleasant one moment, cranky and impatient the next. She often saw him just sitting and frowning at no one and nothing in particular, lost in some disagreeable, dark memory. To be fair, though, he usually came right out of any black mood when teased about it, becoming approachable and genial once again, for a while, at any rate. He seemed to enjoy teaching her, however, and those times were the most pleasant.

She also spent time with her new friends, the minstrels, becoming braver with each passing day. She had some knowledge of the harp and accompanied her songs, but never in front of any large group of people. Any one passing through the Hall could hear her, however, and thus she developed a following of admirers, though she herself was unaware of them.  
Her vocal gift was more than just 'beautiful' as Arwen had said. Even by elvish standards it was exceptional.

A High Feast day approached and she steeled herself for a public performance, although she did not tell Elrond, wanting to surprise him.

Culurien had also made good use of her time in the matter of wardrobe, both sewing and supervising the making of dresses, so she was no longer destitute in that area. The day of the feast found her wearing an emerald green gown that matched her eyes, long sleeved and form fitting, (but not thin) low cut, (but modestly so) that flared out from her hips and fell in graceful folds to the floor. She had a gold embroidered belt that hung low on her waist and her red-blonde hair flowed loose over her back and shoulders with green ivy and yellow flowers wound through her tresses.

Elrond paused in his conversation as Culurien entered the Dining Hall, although he did not trip at the sight of her, he suddenly felt as though the room had grown a great deal warmer and it seemed to be a little bit difficult to breathe.  
He had not invited her to dine next to him this evening and she did not appear to be looking for anybody in particular. She saw him and smiled and for a moment he thought his heart had stopped, so beautiful did she look.

He found himself standing next to her, though he did not recall moving his feet. "Hello," he said, only barely remembering in the nick of time how to speak.

Culurien smiled. "Hello to you as well.”

"Are you…" he stopped. "I mean, have you… that is…" he stopped again, all coherent thought abandoning him.

She put her hand on his shoulder and peered into his face. "Are you feeling quite well?"

"No," he said. "I mean yes… I do not…" he paused. "What are you talking about?"

"Elrond," she exclaimed, very concerned now, "what is the matter?"

"I do not know," he said. "I have not the foggiest notion."

_Foggy is right,_ she thought. "You are not yourself. Perhaps you should sit down," and she guided him to a chair.

_If I am not myself, who am I?_ Elrond wondered absently. He smiled and began to laugh quietly.

Now Culurien was totally bewildered. She took a quick look around, but no one was paying them any heed. "Elrond! I ask you again, what is it? What is wrong?"

"Nothing," he said, wiping his eyes. "I am fine, do not distress yourself."

She was not ready to let it go just yet. "What is so amusing?"

"I know not," he said, dismissing it. "Me, I suppose, the situation… actually, nothing, nothing at all."

Their eyes met and she held his gaze for a moment. He did look normal, now.

"I was trying to ask if you were meeting someone for dinner," he managed to say finally.

"Actually, no," Culurien replied smiling. "Erestor did ask me a good time ago, if I would sit next to him at some point, but he has not mentioned it lately."

"Well," said Elrond, hiding his disappointment, "He is sitting there alone so perhaps you should join him." Culurien paused, searching his face.

"Possibly I could sit between you two gentlemen?" she asked, hopefully.

"That would be fine with me," he said, "although Erestor may not relish the thought of sharing you. Also he would probably think it odd if you ask him to move over a seat."

"You are right, no doubt," she said reluctantly. "Well, first things first, let us see if he welcomes me."

They made their way to the head of the table. Erestor looked up as they approached and his face lit up when he saw Culurien, then fell again when he saw Elrond behind her. When she came right before him and addressed herself to him, he was completely overwhelmed. She sat down to his right and Elrond sat to the left in his usual seat.

It was a delicious meal, the kitchen having out-did itself once again. It was the elvish New Year, called 'Yestare,'* the day before the first day of spring.

Even though Erestor had his back firmly facing Elrond for most of the meal, Elrond could not miss the doe-eyed looks he was giving Culurien. He found that the only way to quell his growing irritation was to turn the other way and demand Glorfindel's constant attention, who in turn was irritated because he wished to converse with his own dinner guest.

_Why, oh why, in the name of all of the Valar were these banquets ever invented?_ thought Elrond, peevishly. He was Lord of Imladris; perhaps he could abandon the custom.  
He amused himself imagining this and other even more revolutionary thoughts for the rest of the meal.

Elrond went to collect Arwen after dessert. As he offered her his arm, she whispered teasingly in his ear. "You are frowning again, what have I done now?" She had surprised him by the question. "I know not of your misdeeds. What have you done?" For indeed he had not seen much of her recently, her preference for entertainment being confined mostly to long solitary walks. He did not think even Culurien saw much of Arwen lately.

"Nothing, I was jesting," she said, looking at her father thoughtfully. He seemed so distracted and distant.

Elrond escorted her to their seats, not looking back, not wishing to see where Erestor and Culurien went. He listened to the musicians unheeding, his eyes wide open, but seeing little.

"Adar," said Arwen, her excitement breaking through his fog. "Look.”

Culurien was standing in the centre, in front of the minstrels. The music started. She opened her mouth and the room was filled with her sometimes sweet, sometimes strong soprano voice.  
Another elf sang with her, taking the low parts of the song while Culurien took the high. The tune was a happy one about woodland feasts and dancing, experiences of her Mirkwood home, no doubt.

Elrond sat entranced. He made no movement at all, his eyes never leaving her face. He realized right then, at that very moment, that his heart and soul were no longer in his possession, but belonged to another.

The song was not especially long and when it was ended, the group of elves who had gathered in front applauded with enthusiasm.

Culurien curtsied prettily and turned to sit behind a large harp that was standing on the floor. She sang and played alone for this song. Elrond thought later that it had been about dreams or unicorns or something, but his attention was not focussed on the lyrics, so he could not be completely certain.

At the end, with much exuberant applause, the audience allowed her to retire. Elrond stood, his hand held out, beckoning her to him. When she stood in front of him, he laid his hand on the side of her face. His eyes glistened with emotion.

"I name thee Linariel,”* he said in a clear voice, loud enough for all to hear. "For thy song is the sweetest sound in Middle-Earth."

 

The audience burst into wild applause.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

*April 6th  
*Song of the morning star


	9. Lessons and...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beautiful but spurned elf maiden Culurien, well not exactly a maiden, goes to Imladris for spiritual healing and encounters Elrond. A romantic comedy with dark undertones.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Elven marriage laws my own

Rated: PG13 for sexual situations

 

 

Sometime near the end of April, Arwen and Culurien were in the Hall of Healing, receiving instruction from Elrond in the care and treatment of wounds. Arwen was not especially enthusiastic, having no stomach for the sight of blood and the stitching of flesh, (for Elrond had produced some very life-like models for the demonstration) and the thing that sat on the table in front of her had a very realistic looking gash through its 'skin' into which Elrond had poured an excessive amount (to Arwen) of very realistic looking 'blood'.

She felt slightly sick to her stomach, the bread and fruit she had eaten an hour ago, threatening to make a reappearance.

Elrond noted his daughter's discomfort and chose to ignore it, instructing them how to wash the blood from the wound and also how to search it with their fingers to remove any foreign material that may have lodged there.

At this last part, Arwen very near fainted and fell back into a chair. Culurien, with an exclamation of concern, came over and started fanning her energetically.

Elrond sighed and waited, while Arwen's face slowly became a little less green.

"Adar," she gasped, "this lesson is not really to my liking."

"But you must learn it anyway," he returned. "If not from me, then from another, for my patience grows thin with you."

There was no sound for a minute except from the movement of air caused by Culurien's vigorous fanning.

"Stay, I am fine now," Arwen said. She tried a change of tactic. "If you wish to prepare us against the coming threat of war, I would prefer to have some knowledge of sword play and self defense against an approaching enemy."

Elrond raised his eyebrows sarcastically. "You have no stomach for cleaning a wound, but you do have the stomach to inflict one? Trust me; the latter is much more difficult than the former."

"Well, maybe swordplay is too ambitious a skill, but what of archery? At least one is at a distance.”

"I have some skill with a bow," said Culurien, "but no speed to speak of. I would like to remedy that."

Elrond sighed, defeated. "Yes, I concede that would be a useful skill as well, but this does not excuse you permanently, Arwen. We will come back to this."

Arwen carefully positioned her face so that Elrond could not see it and rolled her eyes. Culurien bit her tongue to keep from laughing.

"Lindir," Elrond called to the elf that was mixing the 'blood' at the other side of the room. "Will you assist me please, tomorrow morning with the instruction of these ladies in the Art of Warfare?"

Lindir raised an eyebrow and studied Elrond's face. "Certainly, Lord," he said. He could well imagine what these lessons would entail, for he had been with Elrond through many years of conflict with the enemy.

"Very well, then," said Elrond. "We will meet at the stables at eight tomorrow morning. Dress appropriately."

They cleaned up the mess on the table and departed, each to his or her own activities for the remainder of the day.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Well before the appointed hour the next morning, Elrond and Lindir approached the stables with their hands full, for they had first visited the armory. The horses stood ready, saddled for warfare. The two elves, with practiced hands, began attaching to the animals the various weapons they had carried in, both recalled the last time he had made the same motions, nearly three thousand years ago. The saddles used for hunting were very different, many rode with none for pleasure riding.

Before they had finished, Arwen and Culurien arrived, looking almost masculine in their breeches, boots and shirts. They had their hair tied back after the manner of males. They wore cloaks, for the morning air was chilly.

Elrond wore black leather boots that nearly reached his knees, breeches, shirt and belted tunic and also a long, black cloak. Lindir was similarly attired.

The horses stamped and snorted, wondering if they were going to war, for they had been trained, but had never experienced a battle. Elrond laid his hand on the muzzle of the animal he was preparing and spoke softly to him in Quenya. This had a calming effect on the horse and he turned his head and started nuzzling Elrond's ear.

"I see you have a new friend," said Culurien with a smile. In the several months she had lived in Imladris, she had only learned a small amount of the ancient tongue. It seemed odd that the horse knew more than she.

Elrond accepted the affections of the horse, his hand still stroking its head.

"In battle," said he, "one's life often depends on the love the animal has for its master."

He looked over at Culurien and his heart began to pound as he observed the shape of her legs and hips in the snug trousers. She met his eyes and the expression she saw there made her skin tingle. A warm flush crept over her.

Arwen mounted her horse without assistance and was ready to go. "Well?" she asked, shaking them out of their daze.

Elrond held the stirrup for Culurien while Lindir mounted his horse. He approached his own animal with a few more soft words and a pat on the neck.

They set out down a road that passed through orchards, the trees bright with fragrant flowers. They rode in silence, enjoying the beauty of springtime in Imladris. After a mile or so, the trees ended abruptly and a grassy field opened up before them. There were two large oaks in the center of the expanse, tall, majestic and somewhat out of place.

Lindir rode over to the trees and dismounted. He took two canvas sacks out of his saddlebag and attached them to the trees. Each one was marked centrally with a black dot surrounded by concentric circles.

When he returned to the group, Elrond had begun his lecture. "For long range archery, aim is more essential than speed. Take your time, make every shot count." He paused, while he fitted the arrow to the bow. He drew it back and took aim.

The next second the arrow had pierced the center of the right-hand target. Lindir stood ready with bow in hand.

Elrond beckoned him forward. In one swift motion, Lindir pulled back the string and let it fly. His arrow divided Elrond's neatly in half. He caught Elrond's eye and winked as he stepped back.

Elrond decided not to be amused. "If that were an orc, Lindir, that would have been a wasted shot for it is obvious that I have already killed it," he said dryly. "Did I not speak of the necessity of making every shot count?"

Lindir grinned at him and bowed. "All right then," said Elrond, hiding a smile. They stepped behind the ladies and showed them the basics of how to position the bow, although Culurien was already familiar.

"Aim at the targets, please," said Elrond. He stood behind Culurien and looked over her right shoulder to see how she had sighted her target.

"That is not bad," he said in her ear. She was very aware of the warmth of his breath. "Adjust exactly one quarter inch to the left in a straight line." He paused while she did this. Her arm was starting to tremble at the stress of keeping the great bow taut.

"Whenever you are ready," he said and she let go. The arrow hit the target dead center. Culurien let out a huge sigh of relief, unaware that she had been holding her breath. Elrond smiled and clapped her on the shoulder.

"Now Arwen," he said, moving over to her. They waited while Lindir removed the arrows from the targets.

"Go ahead, line it up," Elrond prompted. He looked over her right shoulder. "If you were to let that go right now, you would miss the tree," he said. "You need to line up these sights with the tip of the arrow." Arwen attempted a correction. Elrond checked it again. "That is better," he said, "but you will still be some ways off to the right. Why not shoot a few and see of what I speak."

Culurien had shot a few more arrows while Elrond was helping Arwen. She had no problem with accuracy.

Elrond was impressed. "Is archery standard training for females in Greenwood Forest?"

"No," she answered, smiling. "It is merely a useful skill that I have picked up."

Elrond looked at her with curiosity. "It is not as though we are talking about sewing, here. How useful could it be to you?"

"One never knows," she said, as she shot a few more arrows. _It was having a use right now,_ she thought slyly, enjoying his attention.

"That is excellent," Elrond said. He waved Lindir over to gather the arrows, for he had been wisely staying far out of the way while Arwen practiced. When Lindir returned, Elrond sent him to help Arwen aim.

"Come," he said to Culurien and they moved about thirty paces closer to the target. "Now we will talk about speed," he said. "Naturally speed is useful at long or short range, but at long range one can pick and choose one's targets without being chosen for one yourself. At short range with your enemies charging at you, swinging swords, the more arrows you can let fly, the better. It would be nice to hit every orc through the eye with every arrow, but one in the shoulder or in the stomach is just as effective, so we sacrifice accuracy in favor of speed."

He had slung a quiver across his back while they walked closer. There were a dozen arrows in it. When they reached the distance he desired, he had finished his speech. With a fluid, unbroken line of movement, he reached back, pulled out an arrow, fitted it to the string, pulled it back and let it fly twelve times in less than thirty seconds. All of the arrows hit the target more or less centrally.

"When you first begin to practice this exercise," he said, "you will do it extremely slowly, for you want to achieve the entire movement without ever taking your eyes off of the target."

He ran over to the tree and removed the arrows, keeping a watchful eye on Arwen. When he returned, he demonstrated the move again, only very slowly, letting her see it inch by inch.

"Very well then," he smiled and sat down on the grass. "Go on."

Culurien was a quick study, fumbling only a little for the arrows behind her back and missing the string with the back of the arrow only about half the time by the end of the first dozen.

"That is it," Elrond said. "Perfect the motion, then speed will come later."

They continued in this manner for a while, with Lindir collecting the arrows and Elrond offering instruction, walking back and forth between Arwen and Culurien.

Finally Arwen threw herself down in the grass. "Rest time please. My arms are ready to fall off."

Elrond went to his horse and returned with a flask. They passed it around and relaxed, laying on the sweet, springtime grass.

Elrond put his hands behind his head and lay all the way back, staring at the bright blue sky. The day was turning out to be calming and fun, a nice change of pace. He was glad Arwen had suggested it. Ever the task-master though, he was the first to get to his feet.

"Well, Undómiel," he said, "you expressed a wish for instruction by sword and swords we have brought. Will you lie there all day?"

The others stood up. The day was becoming warm and all cloaks and jackets had long ago been shed, leaving them in just shirts, boots and breeches.

"The basic object of sword fighting in a battle situation is simply to stay alive while killing the enemy," Elrond began. "It in no way resembles the gentlemanly 'affairs of honor' or duels of the heart that have been so often romanticized. There are no flashy moves and very few rules. Quite often, nothing more is required than brute strength and a good amount of luck.

“In your case, however, we must leave out the strength factor and add in a few unconventional moves or 'dirty tricks' if you will," he said with a grin. "Lindir and I will give a short exhibition." They took up their swords.

"What we will strive for in this example is to disarm the enemy. There will be no disemboweling today," Elrond said, looking at Lindir pointedly.

"Have no fear, Lord," said Lindir seriously. "I have not felt the desire for blood-lust in some time."

"Thank-you," said Elrond, "that is most reassuring."

They began by circling each other slowly, looking for an opportunity. Soon their swords were clashing together as each one tried to get the upper hand. Finally Lindir, who was a shade taller and heavier than Elrond, knocked the sword out of his master's hand.

Quick as lightning, Elrond spun around on one foot and with the other, kicked the sword from Lindir's grasp. He then grabbed his servant by the shoulders and brought his knee sharply up into Lindir's groin, who bent over in apparent pain.

Culurien jumped up, concerned. "He is injured!"

"Nay, he is fine," replied Elrond. "I did not hit him with my full strength."

"Are you hurt, Lindir?" Culurien asked her friend. Lindir made no response as beads of sweat appeared on his brow.

"This is what I meant by 'dirty tricks,'" said Elrond, as Lindir sank to his knees. "Although in battle it is customary to wear armor that would protect any vulnerable areas."

At this point, Arwen leapt up, dismayed. "My horse is gone," she exclaimed. "Where is my horse?" They all looked around.

"I will go search for it, Lady," said Lindir, struggling to his feet. He had enough of the demonstrations for one day.

"But he will only come to me," Arwen argued. "Let me come with you."

Lindir looked at Elrond, who dismissed them with a wave. "Both of you go.”

Lindir mounted his horse and pulled Arwen up behind him. They opted to search the nearest copse of trees and rode quickly out of sight.

Elrond and Culurien looked at each other.

"You kicked him too hard," she said. "Why?"

"He split my arrow," said Elrond, simply.

She stared at him for a moment, and then started laughing. After a pause, he joined in with her. When they had recovered, Culurien changed the subject. "You were right, I think sword play is beyond my capabilities, but I would like to know what to do when one comes face to face with an attacker."

"Run," said he.

"Well, obviously, if that is an option," she said dryly. "You know what I mean, if I were trapped, how could I defend myself?"

"Well, I just demonstrated the most effective method," said Elrond, "but it is only useful at close quarters. No doubt you noticed I had to pull Lindir close in order to gain access. Now if someone were to lunge at you with a sword, but miss, you could grasp his wrist, pull him toward you and then use your knee or kick with your foot if the distance is too great." He paused. "Go ahead, try it on me."

"I have no wish to hurt you," she said, amused.

"Then do not make contact," he said, giving her a sidelong look.

They practiced this a few minutes until Elrond finally said, "all right, that is enough already. Lindir is avenged." They both laughed.

"Here," Elrond said, "this is something different." He gathered up all the cloaks and jackets and made a soft mattress of them on the grass. "I will show you several tactics for knocking a person off his feet that do not require strength."

He positioned Culurien with her back to the mattress. He then stepped forward a pace, quickly positioned his left foot behind her left foot and gave her a gentle push on the shoulders.

She was on her back on the mattress without ever realizing what had happened. He grinned at her bewilderment.

"Surprise is very effective as well," said he.

"I hope that works just as easily on you," she murmured and it proved to be the case. Next he stood with his back to the mattress and she faced him.

"Approach me," he said. In a seemingly simple move, he neatly tripped her and managed to stand aside as she fell on the mattress, face first.

"Oof," she said, "that was a good one, show me."

He demonstrated what to do. "Now we will try it.”

She effectively tripped him, but was unable to get out of the way as he fell. She hit the mattress first and he fell heavily on top of her.

"Are you...?" he began.

Their eyes locked together and then suddenly, they were kissing. It was not a tentative first kiss, nor was it a gentle, lingering kiss. It was a kiss built from long winter months of flirtation, innuendo, repressed feelings and sexual tension. At once it burst into a white-hot flame of passion.

He deepened the kiss and their tongues collided, the sensation leaving them both shaking with desire.

Culurien made a small noise and Elrond shifted his weight to keep from crushing her. Their lips separated and they looked at one another for a moment. They kissed again, drowning in the huge wave of feelings that engulfed them.

His lips left hers and he tasted the skin of her face, kissing her chin, her ear, her neck; his mouth leaving a hot trail over her flesh. His hands were all over her breasts, caressing them through the thin shirt. She sighed with pleasure and his hands moved lower.

Suddenly her eyes opened and she became aware of what he was doing. She struggled to free herself and sat up.

"This is wrong," she whispered.

"Wrong?" Elrond gasped for breath, extremely flushed. "How do you mean, wrong?"

"It is improper," she answered, moving away from him. "I would know what you were offering me before it goes any further."

He eyed her warily. "I do not understand you.”

"Then I will spell it out for you," she said. "Are you offering me marriage?"

He was unable to meet her eyes. "You know that is impossible.”

"I do not know it," she said. "If my marriage can be annulled, why cannot yours?

"I cannot annul my own marriage," he said, a little annoyed.

"What of Celeborn?"

"He cannot do it either, for I am above him. It would take no less than an edict from Manwë,* which is, under the circumstances, impossible." He was starting to look sulky.

Culurien regarded him for a long minute. "So, in other words you offer me nothing.”

Elrond did not look at her.

"You would have me as your doxy, then?"

"Do not put it that way," he said, his eyes flashing.

"You would prefer a more polite term? All right, mistress, then." She waited and he said nothing. "I have spent these last months trying to regain my self-esteem and reputation. Now you would tear them down again with one stroke?"

"Culurien, what is the point of marriage, mostly," he said, angry as well, "but to legitimize any heirs, which in this case would be entirely unnecessary."

She stepped two paces quickly to him and slapped him hard on the face. "How could you be so cruel?" she asked through clenched teeth, her eyes filling with tears.

He stood, stunned, his hand slowly raised to his cheek. "Linariel," he whispered. "I am sorry."

She had turned on her heel away from him and paid no heed.

Arwen and Lindir could be seen coming across the field at a trot. She reined in her horse in front of Elrond.

"Adar," she asked. "What happened to your face?"

"We were practicing more defenses and I fell," he said, staring ahead with vacant eyes.

Culurien mounted her horse.

"You two go on home ahead," he told Arwen. "There will be no more lessons today. Lindir and I will stay and clean up."

Elrond stared after them as they rode off.

"Eru Menelesse,"* he whispered with great anguish. "What have I done?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

* Author's note: Elven marriage laws my own  
*God in Heaven


	10. Reflections and Regrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beautiful but spurned elf maiden Culurien, well not exactly a maiden, goes to Imladris for spiritual healing and encounters Elrond. A romantic comedy with dark undertones.

Rated: PG13 Sexual References

 

 

It had been nearly a week and Culurien had scarcely come out of her room, having trays sent up for meals. She was fine, she told Arwen through the door, the spring grass and flowers made her eyes all itchy and swollen and the day in the field had aggravated the condition.

No, she did not want Arwen's father to make her anything, she had already done so, herself. Let me see you, Arwen had said, then, oh yes, no wonder you do not come down, you look like you have been crying for weeks.

When will it go away? Arwen had asked, but she did not know. Well, come and see me if you want company, Arwen had said. She did not care if you looked terrible.

Culurien bathed her face in a basin of cool water and cursed herself for a fool. She could not believe he had not come to her room and thrown her out of the house.  
 _What will I do now,_ she thought miserably, _where shall I go? I am running out of places._ Naturally, she was angry with him, he had no right to talk to her that way.

_Oh in Elbereth's name, why, oh why did I have to go and hit him, he was Lord of Imladris for goodness' sake, practically a King and I went and slapped him in the face._

The look he gave me after… Oh, Lady, stand by me, his lips, his hands, his eyes, the way he smells… a fresh deluge of tears. _Oh my head hurts, what am I going to do?_

He had not tried to come in her room at all, but when she had appeared downstairs in the beginning, he had come towards her and she had fled, afraid.

Kissing him, touching him, what sensations she had felt, strange and new. Her husband had not made her feel that way, so pleasant when Elrond touched her, it made her ache. He had put his hand between her legs and oh Eru, she had nearly jumped out of her skin.

What was happening, why was this happening? Everything had been going along so smoothly, she was starting to feel at home here and now this and the tears burst forth again.

Clutching the balcony rail, watching the water crash into the rocks below, what a headache, _why does my head ache?_ Staring at the water falling, staring over the balcony at the rocks for hours, the water crashing, pounding relentlessly against the jagged cliff...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Elrond sat in his chair in the small dining hall, looking up every time someone came in. He was not very interested in the food in front of him, but he forced himself to eat, determined to keep up appearances, to act normal somehow.

Arwen had come up to him yesterday and had said how awful Culurien looked and how she would not come out of her room because of grass and flowers and could he not fix her something? Umph, he had said.

Is she eating anything? he had asked the maid who took up the tray, yes, a little, she had said. He had seen her downstairs, days ago and had tried to speak to her, to tell her how sorry he was, but she had disappeared.

He had not tried to see her in her room, not wanting to invade her refuge, hoping she still felt safe there.

She was so beautiful, her lips, her skin, her eyes, the way she smelled… he became lost in erotic thoughts… her breasts… he could think about her breasts all day. Kissing her was heaven . . .

How she had moaned quietly when he touched her, the memory sending a thrill through him. Oh Eru, why had he ever said that to her, the look on her face… she was right, it was cruel. Why had he said it? He had been getting angry, angry at her, angry at Celebrían, angry at Gil-galad. _For Mandos sake, do not start thinking about Gil-galad._

Why had he said something he knew would hurt her deeply? Was he trying to drive her away, did he do that on purpose, hurt her before she could hurt him?

She was starting to hurt him, implying that he had no respect for her, implying that all he wanted was one thing, implying that he felt nothing for her health and well-being.

Something in him had lashed out, as though hurting her would protect him. He was so very tired of being hurt, why did it have to happen every time? _It was inevitable, he thought, probably better sooner than later,_ but he was sorry that he had said it, so sorry that he had said all of it about the annulment and everything. _Was it possible?_ He really did not think so. If only there was a way around.

It was all so long ago, everything was such a long, long, time ago, why could he not forget and enjoy the present? It all happened so long ago. _Ereinion,_ he thought with anguish, and sighed. What difference did it make to anything now...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 


	11. Conversations and Intentions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beautiful but spurned elf maiden Culurien, well not exactly a maiden, goes to Imladris for spiritual healing and encounters Elrond. A romantic comedy with dark undertones.

Rated: PG

 

Someone was tapping on his arm. Elrond looked up.

Glorfindel was seated in front of him. "You look terrible, Caun.* What on Arda are you thinking about?"

Elrond stood up. "What are you doing tonight, mellon? Are you busy?"

Glorfindel shook his head. "No, not at all.”

"Good," said Elrond, "for I am in sore need of company. Come, have a glass of wine with me."

Glorfindel raised his eyebrows and followed Elrond out of the dining room, making no comment.

Elrond's chamber was on the ground floor, in a small wing of its own. There was his study, a dressing room, a wardrobe, his bedroom, which was large with a connecting sitting room in front of a fire, a private terrace and a garden. Then there was the bathing room, an area not unlike the public bath, with a wall open to a small waterfall and a warm spring-fed pool.

Elrond poured two goblets of wine and handed one to the golden haired elf.

"Shall we take a bath?" asked Glorfindel, brightly.

Elrond stared at him. "No.”

"Just kidding," said Glorfindel, his eyes twinkling. "Thought it would make you laugh." He tilted his head at Elrond. "You surprised me with your comment in the dining room. I would have thought that you and the fair lady Culurien…" His voice trailed off.

"Quite the contrary," said Elrond. "The fair lady Culurien wants nothing to do with me."

"I will believe that when I see it," snorted Glorfindel.

"You have seen it already if you have noticed that she has not left her chamber for a week," said Elrond. "She hides there to avoid me."

"Does she now?" asked Glorfindel, more serious. "And what did you do to provoke this reaction?"

"I kissed her," said Elrond.

Glorfindel was incredulous. "She did not like it?"

"Indeed yes, she did," answered Elrond.

"Well, make haste and come to the part she did not like," said Glorfindel with impatience.

"The kiss progressed to a point where most females would prefer to be married in order to continue," said Elrond.

"And…" prompted Glorfindel.

"She wanted to know what my intentions were.”

"What were they?" asked Glorfindel, interested.

"It was at this point the dialogue broke down," said Elrond.

Glorfindel looked at him with exasperation. "The dialogue broke down because you said… What?"

"It was more a problem of what I did not say," said Elrond.

"Which would be… WHAT?" asked Glorfindel, desperately.

"My intentions," said Elrond, calmly.

Glorfindel got up and poured himself some more wine. He sat down again, bringing the bottle with him.

"In another moment, I am going to push you into the pool and drown you."

Elrond sighed. "She asked if I intended to marry her.”

Glorfindel looked at him. "And you said…?"

"No," said Elrond quietly.

Glorfindel was amazed. “Why in the name of Eru Ilúvatar would you say such a thing?"

"Because I cannot," said Elrond. "I am already married."

Glorfindel rolled his eyes. "My friend, it has been four hundred years since Celebrían left you. You did not even part on good terms. It is not as though she is waiting for you in Valinor."

"Time matters not," Elrond said quietly. "A marriage is a marriage."

"In the end it was a sad excuse for a marriage," said Glorfindel, bluntly.

Elrond sighed. "In the beginning it was not.”

Glorfindel looked at him in disbelief. "Are you going to sit here, clutching the lifeless, empty husk of a dream lost long ago," he said dramatically, "or are you going to reach out for happiness before it is too late?"

Elrond regarded him with surprise. "Would you have me pretend the legal bond does not exist? If I were to just marry again, the household would be in an uproar. Many of Celebrían's friends and kin reside here still."

"Forget about that for a time," said Glorfindel. "Your first priority should be to convince the lady that you love her." He paused. "You do, do you not?"

"Indeed, yes," said Elrond.

"Once she is certain of your affection, it will be easier to break down any walls of resistance.”

Elrond could only stare at him, speechless, for a moment. "Even after all these years, your lack of morals never ceases to amaze me.”

"I have no problem getting what I want," Glorfindel pointed out.

"Which consists of bedding anyone or anything that moves and breathes," said Elrond, acidly.

"Yes," said Glorfindel happily, taking no offense. "My sexual prowess is indeed legendary, is it not?"

They looked at each other across the table for a long moment, and then they burst out with laughter.

Elrond laid his head upon his arms on the tabletop, his shoulders shaking, the tears streaming down his face. He simply could not stop laughing.

"Thank Eru for your sense of humor," he finally said, wiping his eyes. "It is all that is keeping me sane."

"You could simply save yourself a lot of trouble and strongly request the pleasure of her company," Glorfindel said. "You are a prince and Lord of Imladris, after all."

The smile left Elrond's face in an instant. He stood and leaning across the table, took Glorfindel's collar in his hand, pulling him forward. "You of all people should know better than to voice words of that nature to me.”

"Stay, stay," cried Glorfindel, distressed. "I did not think, forgive me." He sat back and studied Elrond for a moment. "That was so long in the past," he whispered. "Why can you not let it go?"

"Some wounds strike too deep," said Elrond, relaxing only a little.

"Possibly there is one capable of healing them if you would let her," Glorfindel said gently.

Elrond was silent.

"Have you told her about… all of that?" asked Glorfindel.

"Nay, I cannot," said Elrond.

"Just as you could not tell Celebrían and remember what happened there.”

"You need not mention it, my memory is excellent,” responded Elrond

"Unlike your judgement," returned Glorfindel.

Elrond's eyes flickered darkly. "You push your luck. Do not try me any more tonight."

"It looks as though I have worn out my welcome," said Glorfindel, sighing. He put his hand on Elrond's shoulder. "Honesty is your best road in this instance."

"That is rich, coming from you," Elrond said wryly, wiping his hand over his face.

"Just because I do not heed my own advice, does not mean it is worthless." Glorfindel smiled and took his leave.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

*Prince, ruler


	12. Dark Memories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beautiful but spurned elf maiden Culurien, well not exactly a maiden, goes to Imladris for spiritual healing and encounters Elrond. A romantic comedy with dark undertones.

Rated: PG13- sexual situations and references  
(M/F, M/M)

  
Elrond was in his chamber the next evening, half undressed, contemplating going to bed early. He was tired. Tired of worrying, tired of so much useless thought, looking forward to the escape and obliviousness of slumber, when there was a knock on the outer door. "Lindir," he called. "The door, please." The only sound was another knock.

"Lindir," he said again. "Drat." He started to re-button his shirt as he walked to open the door. Culurien stood on the threshold. Elrond gazed at her in astonishment.

"Could I come in please?" she asked. "I would have a word with you privately."

He moved aside to allow her access and closed the door. He stared at her and waited, unable to speak.

She took a deep breath. "I have come to apologize for the incident at the field last week, I am sorry I hit you, I was wrong to criticize you, please forgive me."

Her eyes never left the floor during this remarkable statement.

Now Elrond was truly speechless. He ran his fingers through his hair, pushing it back off his face. "Apology accepted, although entirely unnecessary. On the contrary, it is I who must apologize, for my behavior was inexcusable."

"You did nothing but speak the truth," she said, still looking at the floor.

He reached out, lifted her chin up and looked in her eyes. He was not sure he liked what he saw there. He held her gaze, unblinking, for a moment. What was it? Resignation, defeat possibly. This was not a good sign.

Culurien placed her hands on Elrond's chest, and then slowly moved them upwards until they encircled the back of his neck. She tilted her head back, her eyes half closed, her lips parted slightly, pink and sensuous.

Elrond could no more refuse this invitation than a starving man could refuse a feast. Their lips met in a hot embrace, their bodies pressed together tightly as his arms went around her, stroking her back and neck, pushing his hips against hers, his fingers running through her hair…

He opened his eyes and stopped kissing her. His hands grasped her arms at the wrist and pulled them down. He took a deep breath. "Something is wrong," he said, looking at her with an odd expression on his face.

Culurien gazed at him in silence.

"Why are you here?" he asked.

"Do you not want me here?"

"Answer the question," he insisted. His eyes bored into her and she looked away.

"A week ago," he continued, "you had firm convictions about intimacy outside of marriage and now you offer yourself to me like any… what was your term? Doxy."

Her eyes filled with tears. "I cannot seem to do anything right, I refuse you and you are angry, I accept you and you are angry. Oh, Elrond Peredhil," she touched his face with her fingers. "Why is there so much anger in you?"

He ignored her question. "Why are you here?"

"I only want to please you," she said.

His voice became heated. "Then that is the problem, because that is not good enough a reason for abandoning your convictions.”

He paused and stared at her a minute. "Let me guess, I am the Lord of the House and you fear you have offended me, it will not do to offend the Lord, for he rules the fates of many. At any cost the Lord must be obeyed, happy, and satisfied. Woe to him that does not do the King's bidding."

He stopped suddenly, with a pained look on his face. "The Lord's bidding," he said more quietly.

During this exchange he had gripped her by the shoulders.

"Stop," she whispered. "You are frightening me."

He let go of her. He sat down at the table and put his head in his hands. Culurien came slowly to the table and sat across from him, concerned at his troubled aspect.

He looked up and reached for her hand. "Linariel, be here because you want it to be so. I would never, never ask of you something you would not give freely. Whatever your reasons, do it for you, not for me."

She was not convinced. "So you say now. What if I did refuse you? In time you would come to resent me. By one means or another, my life here would become untenable, and to be quite honest, I have no where else to go."

"Did I not say to you at our first meeting, that you may call Imladris your home until the end of days?" he asked.

"Things change," she answered.

"But you forget, I have knowledge of the future, and I do not make idle statements. Linariel, you must trust me in this."

He paused and drew a deep breath. "I have been in the same situation you are in now and I know exactly how you feel."

She looked at him with cold skepticism in her eyes. "I am sorry to doubt you, my Lord, but I do not see how that could be possible."

Elrond studied the table for a while.

"I will tell you a story," he said with a sigh. "It is not an easy one to tell and so I have never told it before. At the end you will feel differently about me. You may possibly lose all respect for me; I know I did, for myself, at the time." He looked up.

"But I will tell it anyway, for either way I will lose you, so there is no difference, except that one way is the path of honesty and one way is not. Hopefully, I have learned from past mistakes." He took another deep breath and began.

"My brother Elros and I were four years old when we were stolen from my mother. My father was at sea at the time. Out of grief she threw herself in the ocean, possibly you are acquainted with the story, it is well known. We were probably very lucky that Maglor, son of Fëanor did not slay us in revenge for the loss of the silmaril that my mother had in her keeping. Eventually, we were returned to our own people.

“Gil-galad was High King of all the Noldor in Middle-earth and at Lindon was his throne. He was my kinsman, being the cousin of my grandmother, Idril Celebrindal, daughter of Turgon, King of Gondolin that was no more. Therefore, he assumed responsibility for me."

“This took place sometime before the fall of Thangorodrim, after which the Lords of the Valar made us choose to which kindred we would belong. Elros eventually went to Númenor with the Edain and I remained at Lindon with Gil-galad.”

Elrond sighed.

"In the beginning, he was my father, my teacher, my mentor, my friend. He was the most important person in the world to me and I loved him dearly. Eventually, though, he took my love and he killed it. He took my innocence and he destroyed it… he betrayed my trust."

Elrond put his face in his hands. His hair fell forward and Culurien reached over and pushed several strands back behind his ear, her hand lingering there for a moment. She said nothing. He looked up after a while and continued.

"Yes, he betrayed my trust in him," Elrond said. "I did not know it at the time, but I know it now."

He leaned his chin on his hand and his eyes took on a far away expression.

"I was twenty-eight* when it happened," he said, "Older than Estel actually, but still very young by our reckoning. Young, innocent, naive and trusting, I was all of that. I came to realize later it was those qualities that attracted him, for when they were gone… well, I jump ahead.

“So, Gil-galad, High King of the Noldor decided to take his foster son, Elrond Peredhil, as his lover. What does one do? What does one say? He was the King, one does not refuse the King; it was not an option. I loved him and I trusted him. He would not do anything to hurt me, or so I thought.

“But it was wrong, so very wrong," he whispered. "Mostly because of my extreme youth and the position of trust he held with me, partly because although I loved him, I did not love him in that way.

“At the time, however, I did not know it was wrong, all I knew was that he was the King and it was my duty to do as he bid me. I owed everything to him.

“So, he did with me as he wished. I will not say it was entirely unpleasant, for at times it was not. It was not as though he was disagreeable to me, for I loved him, and only wanted to please him. He was always more concerned with his own pleasure than mine and that was something of a relief, for I am not sure I could have responded in the way he might have wished.

“And so this went on for some time and I endured it, foolishly believing that he loved me, that he loved me alone and no other, that I was his 'grand passion,' if you will. It was, after all, quite a privileged position. Eventually, though, my fragile tower of cards came crashing down.

“I came into his chamber one day and found him enjoying the company of another. Needless to say, I was in shock. He actually had the audacity to invite me to join them.

“Now that should have been the end of the story, but it is not, and it was at this point that I abandoned all self-esteem.

“It turned out that Gil-galad was not rejecting me in favor of another, but that there had always been others and I was not the object of his love so much, as the object of his lust.

“He desired me still, and I allowed it. I allowed it to continue," he whispered.

"I should have called an end to it right then and there, king or no king. I was older, no longer naive and fast becoming jaded. But courage I lacked to defy him. Eventually, he became aware of the harm he was doing and bothered me no more.

“I was angry at the time, and I am still angry that I was not the one to stop it, that I never confronted him with my feelings, that I did nothing to curb the resentment that was growing inside me, that I never demanded an apology or an explanation from him. Of course eventually it became too late, and it eats at me still, even after all these long years. End of story," he said, not looking at her.

"Is it?" Culurien asked gently. "What is there between you and Glorfindel?"

He raised his eyebrows. "Ah, very perceptive you are, my lady. It was he I discovered with the King in his chamber."

"Is that all?" she asked.

"Yes, of course," he said quickly. After a pause, "actually, no," he sighed. "Glorfindel became enamored of me as well. Him, I denied, but he would not take no for an answer. Eventually he plied me with alcohol and wore me down. I felt like a common whore anyway, what difference did it make? But it did make a difference in the end and he knew it.”

"How did he know?" she asked.

"It turned out to be a lot more than we both had bargained for and I wept for the rest of the night," he answered vaguely.

She looked at him for a long moment. "Was he sorry?"

"Yes," he said. "He was sorry and he tried to comfort me."

"And you became friends after that?"

"Well, it was more of shared experiences on the battle-field that brought that about. One does not go through conflicts such as the War of Wrath, Dagorlad, or the siege of Orodruin without forging certain bonds," said he. There was a pause.

"You have never told this story to anyone else?" she asked. He shook his head.

"Why did you not tell Celebrían? There should not be secrets of this sort between husband and wife."

"It was not intended to be a secret," said Elrond. "There just never seemed to be any reason to bring it up. In hindsight, though, it appears she should have been told, reason or no."

"Would you have told me, if our reason did not exist?"

"Maybe," he said. "Glorfindel has been putting pressure on me to do so. I suppose he does not want to see history repeat itself."

"I do not follow you," Culurien said. "There is more to this than you are saying."

Elrond sighed. "This is what happened, I did not tell Celebrían, she found out. Perhaps it would have been different, coming from me, who knows. She overheard a conversation just before she left for Lothlórien, the time she was attacked. She confronted me with it, but she did not have all of the facts straight and she would not listen to any explanation. She did not know how young I was with Gil-galad and she seemed to think the relationship with Glorfindel was on-going, that I had cheated on her our entire marriage. We were not on good terms before this and I think she chose to believe the worst as an excuse to leave and never come back. She was always much happier in Lothlórien."

He pushed his hair back off his face and his eyes met hers.

"Well," he said with sarcasm in his voice, "What is the verdict? Any questions, comments, snide remarks?"

Culurien tried to hold his eyes, but he looked away.

"You have torn down a wall with one hand, a very large, thick wall. Now you try to build it again with the other," she said quietly. "Why?"

Elrond folded his hands and stared at them. "I am afraid to hear what you might say.”

She rose and came around the table to sit next to him. She laid his head on her shoulder, putting her arms around him.

"I would say to thee, Healer, look to thine own medicine, for you are blameless in this matter. Be at peace," she whispered. "As for your regrets and your anger, now that you have voiced them, perhaps the pain will ease somewhat."

He sat up. "Perhaps. All I know for certain is that I am weary beyond words, or is it that so many words have made me weary? Sorry, a poor jest, I am going to bed.” He stood, looking at her. "Will you stay for a short while and sing to me?"

She smiled up at him. "Certainly, Lord, if you wish it."

He froze and then smiled weakly. "Another poor jest.” He walked over to the bed, took off the clothes he wore and got beneath the blankets. He stole a quick glance at her. She sat very still, staring at him.

"Linariel," he whispered.

"What?" she asked, coming out of her daze with a start. "Oh, yes," she murmured and sitting next to him, she sang a quiet song to him as he closed his eyes and relaxed. His breathing became deep and rhythmic at once. Culurien quietly sang every song she knew as she watched him sleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
*Thirteen, by human reckoning.


	13. Contemplation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beautiful but spurned elf maiden Culurien, well not exactly a maiden, goes to Imladris for spiritual healing and encounters Elrond. A romantic comedy with dark undertones.

Rated: PG

 

"This is not fitting, Lord," Lindir argued. "My place is by your side."

"I wish you to remain here," said Elrond, pulling on his boots.

Lindir was persistent. "I always come with you.”

Elrond stood and put his hand on his servant's shoulder. "Do not distress yourself on my account, Lindir, I simply need some solitude and I am unable to find it in this place."

He glanced out onto the terrace. It was starting to become light  
"Also, it is necessary for you to stay here to dispel any worries my daughter and others may have about my absence. I will be back in about three days.”

Lindir had an obstinate look on his face.

"There is to be no more argument," Elrond said quietly. He picked up his bundle of spare clothing and necessities and left the room.

There was nobody awake at the stables. He saddled his own horse and mounted. He chose a road which led to the outskirts of the valley, rather than into it, around the orchards.

It was in his mind to visit the outposts of Imladris, speak with the guards, and inspect all the gates, natural and constructed; checking over the complete boundaries.

It was not an unusual journey, in fact it was one he made at least once a year, but Lindir was right, he never went alone. Lindir always accompanied him and also either Glorfindel or Erestor, and his respective servant. It was a trip Elrond usually enjoyed and this excursion was no different. He saw few elves, for mostly natural boundaries kept the valley inaccessible from the outside and did not require guards.

He spent some time on the wrong side of these obstacles, attempting to scale walls and cliffs, testing their effectiveness.

He was still on the Outside when he found himself very close to the upper gate. There was a gentle rain falling and Elrond had his cloak on, with his hood up. He was walking his horse for the path was muddy and slippery. Suddenly there were a dozen arrow tips three feet away from his face. He had been looking down at the path and was slightly startled.

"Pusta, inyë nildo,"* he said, holding up his hands. He pulled the hood off of his head.

Elemmakil was relieved, but clearly confused. "Master Elrond! We had no word of your arrival or departure, whichever it may be." He knew he had not seen Elrond leave through the gate.

"It is neither," said Elrond. "I am merely making one of my annual walks about."

"You are alone?" Elemmakil was incredulous.

"Yes indeed," said Elrond, "for a change of pace. How goes it with you, old friend?" he asked, slapping him on the back, for Elemmakil was indeed an old friend, having been captain of the outer gate of the hidden city of Gondolin. He had known Eärendil, Elrond's father.

"All goes well, Master," he said. "Come in and have refreshment."

With that, they went through the gate, which from the outside did not even resemble one. They entered a small enclosure on the other side, where they shared a loaf of bread and sweet tea which Elemmakil poured from a pot over a fire.

They talked for a while about the growing darkness outside the valley, trying to separate rumour from fact, but there was precious little information to rely on. Elladan had only sent back a scout once since his departure some months ago.

Elrond changed the subject and asked Elemmakil to tell him all he could remember of his father, Eärendil.

Elemmakil was surprised, for Elrond had never asked much about him before, seeming to harbour a certain bitterness. However, elves have good memories and he was able to recall a great deal even though his mind had to stretch back over six millennia.

Elrond listened to him in silence, his arms around his knees. He had always had a hard time thinking of his father as a real person, rather than myth or legend. He wished he had known him, as Elemmakil had.

Elemmakil finished his reminiscences and regarded Elrond for a moment. "You look a great deal like him.”

"Do I?" asked Elrond. "It is difficult to see any resemblance when all one has to look at is a statue."

"You do," he responded. "And he in turn, greatly resembled his grandfather, the king. In temperament, though, you are like night and day."

Elrond raised his eyebrows. "How so?"

"Eärendil had a wander-lust that nothing could cure," said Elemmakil. "He was restless and unsatisfied always. He caused your mother great grief with his many journeys. Courage, he had certainly, in abundance. Responsibility to his family, however, was not his top priority."

Elemmakil paused and looked at Elrond. "Eärendil was a great person, one of the greatest in all of our history. But a great father, he was not. You surpass him in that area, Master. In many respects, that is just as important as slaying dragons."

Elrond made no comment and placed his hand on Elemmakil's shoulder for a long moment.

The night was growing old and Elrond rolled himself up in a blanket and went to lie down outside the enclosure. It had stopped raining and the night sky was clear.

He gazed at the stars a long while before he fell asleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next morning, Elrond took his leave of the guards and headed back to his house down the conventional path. He had almost reached the lower gate when he heard something jingling ahead of him around the bend. He halted his horse and waited, his arms folded in front of him.

A white horse came into view and Glorfindel was riding. Elrond made no greeting, but simply asked, "Where are you off to?"

"No place in particular," smiled Glorfindel.

"No?" inquired Elrond, raising his eyebrows. "Not looking for me, by any chance?"

"Not at all," said Glorfindel, lying.

"That is well," said Elrond, not believing him for a moment. "I do not have any need for a nursemaid."

Glorfindel smirked. "Hopefully, I do not look like one.”

He had turned his horse and was now headed in the same direction as Elrond.

"Returning from 'no place' so soon?" asked Elrond.

"You know how I detest long journeys," responded Glorfindel.

They rode through the gate and down toward the stables in silence. Finally, Elrond spoke. "I told Culurien.”

"Did you, indeed?" Glorfindel was surprised. "You took my advice, how gratifying. I do not think anyone has ever done that before."

Elrond gave him a sidelong look, but said nothing.

"So," said Glorfindel, "how did she respond?"

"She did not run away in disgust," said Elrond.

"Well neither would have Celebrían had you been honest with her in the beginning.”

"You do not know that," snapped Elrond. "Culurien was sympathetic because she felt herself in the same position. Celebrían would have had no such perspective."

"Culurien was sympathetic because she loves you," said Glorfindel gently. "Celebrían, most likely, in the end, did not."

Elrond regarded him for a moment.

"You are quite probably right," he said quietly. He had long suspected that towards the end of their marriage, Celebrían had a lover in Lothlórien, so often did she journey back and forth to there from Imladris. He had found it hard to believe that she simply missed her parents as she stated. Unfortunately, he had no proof of this, he thought regretfully, for it would provide ample cause to annul the marriage and he would not even need permission from Manwë, with that serious a transgression.

And he had tried to find proof, so angry had he been all those years ago, but none was forthcoming, so it had remained merely suspicion. To think, this had begun well before she found out about his past. _What right had she to be so angry with him?_ Then she had left Imladris for the last time, never planning to return, when she was wounded and taken by the orcs.

Unfortunately, Elladan and Elrohir were unaware of her plans when they rescued her and brought her back to Imladris. Elrond never enlightened them, for only in Imladris could the arrow poison be healed, and he did not want her to die, for in his heart he loved her still, in spite of everything.

Oh, how upset she had been when she woke and found herself in Imladris once more. Fortunately, no one except Elrond heard this, for he was tending her wounds alone.

When she was well enough to travel, some four months later, she left for Lothlórien and he never saw her again. He did not know what prompted her to leave Middle-earth.

It may have been memory of the orc den, as Galadriel had said, but Elladan had commented that his mother did not seem distressed to him.

Glorfindel interrupted his reverie. "So, you not only have Culurien's sympathy, you have her affection as well. This is a good start."

"Maybe," said Elrond, "although I am no longer sure of anything."

They had left the stable and were walking towards the house.

"What you need to do," said Glorfindel, "is to find a way to make her realize how much she loves and desires you. Desire is a useful tool."

"Actually, I think I have made some headway in that direction already," Elrond said with a small smile.

"How so?" asked Glorfindel, with a raised eyebrow.

"Well, after I told her everything, I got undressed and went to bed," said Elrond.

Glorfindel waited. "Yes?"

"In front of her," said Elrond.

"Got undre... Naked?" asked Glorfindel, surprised

"Indeed, yes," said Elrond.

Glorfindel's mouth fell open and he had a hard time getting it to work again. "Well, what was her reaction?"

"She seemed quite transfixed," answered Elrond.

"Ah," said Glorfindel. He paused. "In a good way, I hope?"

"So I believe," said Elrond.

Glorfindel slapped him on the back. "Well done, my friend, well done. I did not know I was able to give such good advice.”

"I thought you had told me your advice was not worthless," smiled Elrond.

"Well, not worthless, certainly, but not worth much, either," he smiled back.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

* Stop, I am a friend. _Q_


	14. Declarations and Commitments

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beautiful but spurned elf maiden Culurien, well not exactly a maiden, goes to Imladris for spiritual healing and encounters Elrond. A romantic comedy with dark undertones.

Rated PG13 for necking

  
Elrond was laughing. He held a small child in his arms, a female with black curly hair and bright green eyes. He was tickling her and she was giggling with delight.

Culurien looked at them both and smiled. She was holding a child as well. They were all very happy.

Elrond turned and saw a tall figure with silver blonde hair walking towards them. "Celebrían," he whispered, shocked. She held up her hand, palm facing him, and then she turned away and walked towards a figure standing in the shadows.

Elrond's eyes snapped open and he sat up. He struggled to think clearly. He wanted to recall every detail immediately, for he might not be able to later. He ran his fingers through his hair and sat there quietly for a time.

Eventually he became aware that somebody was speaking to him. It was Lindir, holding out a garment. He slid the robe over his head and got out of bed.

Elrond went out onto the terrace and sat down while Lindir brought him a hot drink. He sipped it and stared out at the mountains for a long while.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Culurien had been upset to find Elrond gone the morning after their long talk.

She had questioned Lindir closely, but he would only tell her that Elrond had said not to worry about him. She got the distinct impression that Lindir was quite worried himself.

_He has run away from me,_ Culurien thought. She spent the three days he was gone pacing the length of her balcony, looking down the road, or climbing one of the high towers from which one could view the entire valley.

One day it was so damp and foggy she could not see at all and she achieved nothing but to give herself a cold chill.

Arwen showed very little concern. "He has been taking care of himself for a long time, I am sure he is fine." She spent all of her time worrying about Aragorn.

Culurien was not convinced; she was more aware of Elrond's mental state than Arwen.

Then he had returned. He seemed happy and relaxed, smiling at everyone.

Culurien did not approach him. Her mind and her heart were unsure of their feelings for him, but the rest of her body had no such doubts and every inch of it trembled at the memory of his touch and she felt a burning ache, low in her abdomen every time she caught a glimpse of him.

And he did not approach her either. Culurien was certain more than ever that he had left for the sole purpose of avoiding her, that he regretted saying anything about his past to her and that he was still annoyed with her. She could not convince herself that he was probably very busy with the management of the house after being away three days.

_What is the matter with you?_ she said angrily to herself. _You should be happy to still have a roof over your head. Maintain a grip,_ she thought, with a wry smile. So rather than worry herself into a frenzy, she spent most of her time in the Hall of Healing arranging, cataloging and refining the many ingredients that she and Elrond had collected over the last few months.

Elrond's heart felt lighter than it had in some time. The trip had been a good tonic for him and that, combined with physical exertion, had left his mind remarkably clear.

Lindir had told him of Culurien's inquiries and he had noted the concerned looks she had thrown in his direction. _Better and better,_ he thought. Let her worry about him for a while. He smiled to himself. He had to be out of his mind to take Glorfindel's advice about love affairs, but damn, the elf was right, he did get results and left no trail of broken hearts behind him. He must be doing something right.

Elrond busied himself in the administration of Imladris for several days and put Culurien out of his mind with a great effort.

At midmorning, one day, all of his tasks accomplished, Elrond recollected an additional duty. Another High Day was approaching; he must get down to the kitchens to have a council with Caladir, the kitchen master. Elrond did not believe in ‘sending' for people when he wished to see them, he much preferred poking his nose into all corners of his household.

It was after luncheon when he entered the main kitchen, a veritable beehive of activity as usual. He looked around, smiling and then his heart stopped. Culurien was there, up to her elbows in dough, covered with flour. Elrond stood transfixed.

Miriel, the senior baker, looked up at him and smiled. "Good day, Master Elrond.”

"Good day to you, Madam," Elrond returned. To Culurien he asked directly, "what are you doing?"

"Learning to bake bread," she answered happily.

"Why?" asked Elrond.

"It is a useful skill," said she.

He looked bewildered. "So you just said to yourself ‘today I will learn a useful skill?”

She smiled at him. "Actually, I came down here early this morning to gather some herbs from the garden. One thing led to another and I am still here."

Elrond watched her work, fascinated.

"Did you come here on an errand, Master?" Miriel asked him.

"Oh, yes," Elrond recalled, standing. "I must speak with Caladir." He reluctantly took his eyes away from Culurien and went in search of that elf.

When he returned, the loaves of bread were in the oven and Culurien was dusting off her hands.

He addressed Miriel. "May I steal your assistant for a short while?"

"Certainly, Master," she responded. "We are finished here."

Elrond took Culurien by the hand and led her through the outside door into the garden. They walked down several paths until they found a secluded bench and sat. Elrond looked at her in silence for a while.

"Did you have something you wished to say to me?" Culurien asked, feeling a bit unnerved by this scrutiny.

"Not with words." He lifted his hand to her face and traced a line in the flour. Her heartbeat quickened at his touch and she looked into his eyes.

Their lips met in a feverish kiss. She opened her mouth wider and their tongues touched, sending a shiver of excitement right down to her toes. Their arms went around each other and Elrond caressed her back.

One hand slipped down her hip to end up stroking her inner thigh. She pulled back far enough to speak. "Please.”

Elrond let go of her. "I jump too far ahead.”

"You do," she responded.

They sat for a moment in silence, catching their breath.

"May I make a rule?"

"Certainly," he said doubtfully.

"No touching below the shoulders? Not yet."

"Unlimited touching above the shoulders?" he asked, his eyes twinkling.

"Agreed," she said. "Agreed," he smiled.

He took her face in his hands and kissed her again, deeply. Taking her bottom lip between his teeth, he bit it gently. His lips moved to the side of her face, nuzzling the soft skin just beneath her ear.

His mouth was hot as he traced the line of her jaw with his lips and tongue. He turned his attention to her ear and took the edge of it into his mouth, biting it, and then licking it, his tongue invading all the delicate crevasses.

Her breathing became ragged. "Oh Elrond, what are you doing?"

"Merely following the rules," he murmured, his breath burning in her already over-heated ear.

"This is a public place.”

"We are not in any state of undress," he mumbled, his tongue tracing the fine veins of her throat.

"Not yet," she whispered.

He sat back and contemplated her, his face flushed, his blood pounding. Suddenly, Culurien started to giggle. He was perplexed. "What," he asked, "is so amusing?"

Culurien continued to laugh, her hand over her mouth as she pointed at him.

Elrond looked down. He was wearing a long, knee length belted black tunic over his breeches. It was covered in flour.

"Well, it appears we will have to get undressed after all," he said with a smirk, regarding both of their white powdered garments.

"I believe a damp towel will be just as effective," she said, moving to go fetch one.

"Culurien, wait.” He caught her hand and drew her back down beside him.

"I do have something I want to say to you.” He faced her. "I had not planned on saying it now, in this place, but maybe it is the right time." He took a deep breath.

"We face an awkward situation, you and I. Under normal circumstances I would ask you to betroth yourself to me and you might accept. We would exchange rings and be married in a year.

“But these are not normal circumstances. I cannot get married, I cannot ask you to bind yourself to me, but I can give you a ring and it may mean something to you."

He reached into his pocket and took out a small object wrapped in tissue. He put it into her hand. "I have carried this about for a while.”

She looked at his face, hesitating, and then she opened the paper. It was a beautiful golden ring with a brilliant green emerald set in the center surrounded by small diamonds.*

Culurien was overwhelmed. "I cannot wear this.”

"Nay, you cannot, not at this time," he agreed. "At least not on your finger, but perhaps next to your heart.” He took a gold chain from around his neck and gave her that as well.

She continued to stare at the ring in her hand, saying nothing.

"I give you this ring in anticipation of a promise I will make as soon as I am able. Your choice is to decide whether to wait for the promise or conclude this is a fruitless venture, doomed to failure." He paused, watching her face.

"I will wait for the promise," she said softly. "Have you any insight into the future in this instance?"

"Nay.” He shook his head. "No real vision, only dreams, which are not to be trusted."

She looked up quickly. "You had a dream about us?"

"Yes," he answered, "about four nights back."

Her eyes grew wide. "So did I, four nights back. We were very happy. We had children, a boy and a girl."

"I had exactly the same dream," he said quietly.

"Who was the silver lady?"

"Celebrían," he said softly.

"I thought as much," she said. "What was she trying to tell you?"

"I know not," he answered. "Dream interpretation has never been an interest of mine. They give no clear indication of their meaning and also one's mind may put its own stamp on the events."

"Exactly," she said. "I thought at the time it was wishful thinking, not an omen of the future, although this throws it into a different light. If it is a prediction, who is doing the predicting?"

"I know not," he said again, his brows knitted together. "But I have prayed for guidance. Manwë, perhaps?"

"It is not much of a guide," said she. "It gives you a conclusion, but does not tell you how to get there."

"Perhaps it is not a guide but a reassurance; Do not worry, all will be well in the end.”

"Humph," she snorted. "Well that is something, I suppose. Where and when will this ‘end' take place, I wonder?"

"I suspect the Blessed Realm, since we have children," he said gently. "All hurts are said to be cured there."

She smiled thinly. "That takes care of where, what of when?"

"That is cloudier. I stay in Middle-earth through the end of this Age, until the Great Evil is broken and the power of the elves diminished." He considered a moment. "Perhaps another century or so.”

"One hundred years?" she said in astonishment.

He nodded. "Give or take a decade.”

"One hundred years until we can be married?" she asked, shocked.

"It is not that long," he said.

"Not to you, maybe, for you look back on a life-span ten times that of mine. To me it seems an eternity."

Elrond put his arms around Culurien and she laid her head on his shoulder.

"Do not worry; all will be well in the end."

"I love you, Elrond Peredhil," she sighed.

"I love you as well, Culurien Linariel," he answered.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

*Author's note. Because this is not a traditional elven betrothal, I chose to ignore traditional elven betrothal traditions.


	15. Baths and Bordeaux

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beautiful but spurned elf maiden Culurien, well not exactly a maiden, goes to Imladris for spiritual healing and encounters Elrond. A romantic comedy with dark undertones.

Rated:R sexual situations

  
"I will not wait one hundred years for you," Culurien stated firmly as she stood before the fire in Elrond's study, sometime later.

Elrond looked at her, his heart sinking down into his boots. "You are returning my ring?"

"Indeed, no," she said. "I will wait one hundred years to marry you, but I will not wait one hundred years for you."

Elrond tried not to let his face look as confused as he felt.

"I have no more convictions,” she began.

"No?" he asked, raising his eyebrows.

Culurien shook her head. "I have tossed them out the window.”

"Have you, now?" he asked, wondering what they were talking about.

She stared at him. "Are you dense?" she cried with exasperation. "I am throwing myself at you!"

"Oh," he said, his eyes dancing, the light suddenly dawning. "A very romantic seduction. How about a glass of wine or two and then try it again?"

She sat in a chair while he poured the wine. "I did not want it to be like the last time, for fear you would get angry again.”

"I see," said Elrond, his mind still reeling with amazement, as he handed her the wine. He would have to think of a very nice present for Glorfindel. They sipped the wine and studied each other for a while, temporarily at a loss for words.

"Well," she finally said. "Now what?"

Elrond burst out laughing. "This is indeed awkward.”

"It is only awkward until we get started.”

"More wine," said Elrond, filling her goblet.

"I am not used to drinking," she warned, "although maybe it will help with the pain."

"Pain?" he asked. "What pain?"

She lowered her voice meaningfully. "You know.”

"Are you talking about the pain the first time?" he asked, puzzled.

"No," she said, "the pain every time."

He frowned in confusion. "There should not be any pain.”

"So you say," she responded, "but you were not there."

"There will not be any pain," he stated firmly.

"It is the same act, is it not?" she asked. "How can you be so sure?"

"Culurien, have some more wine."

"Now," he continued as she sipped her wine, "at what point was it painful?"

"From the beginning to the end.”

"That is not very helpful," he said. "Be more specific."

"What did you not understand?" she asked. "From the time he put his . . . you know . . . until the time he finished."

Elrond sighed. "Linariel, did you love your husband?"

She shrugged. "I thought that I did, at the time.”

"What do you think, now?" he asked.

She looked up at him, her eyes burning. "No one has ever made me feel the way you do.”

"How, exactly, do I make you feel?" he asked, taking her wine goblet away from her hand, his eyes reflecting hers.

"Hot," she said. "Very hot. Also somewhat . . . damp"

"Ah. Here?" he asked as his fingers slid over her stomach and continued lower.

"Yes," she whispered, her eyes on fire.

"Did he ever touch you . . . here . . . like I am doing now?"

"No," she gasped. "Never."

He stood. "Well, that was definitely part of the problem.”

"Where are you going?" she asked with some alarm, breathing heavily.

"Wine," he said, holding up the bottle. "I am quite thirsty."

He sipped his wine and regarded her thoughtfully. "You look a trifle warm in that gown," he said, taking in her flushed face. "Perhaps you would feel more comfortable with it off."

"Help me, please," she said, turning her back to him. Elrond untied the laces that bound up the back of the dress. He slipped the material down off her shoulders and the garment fell to the floor. Culurien turned to face him and his eyes grew hot seeing the curves of her body visible through the thin shift.

"You look a trifle warm yourself," she said.

Elrond sat and pulled off his boots. His tunic and shirt followed swiftly behind. Culurien reached up and touched his bare chest, her fingers running lightly over his smooth skin.

She then fell to her knees and started to unbutton his breeches. Elrond came out of his daze.

"What are you doing?" he asked, feeling very flushed.

"I am no dewy-eyed virgin," she responded as she freed him from the confines of his garments. "I know how to please a male."

"Stay, stay," said Elrond, backing hastily away from her. "I do not require any assistance of that nature at this point."

He composed himself. "Tonight will be about giving Culurien pleasure for I suspect she has been missing something these many years."

He finished what she had started and his breeches fell to the floor. He stepped out of them and reached for her shift, pulling it over her head.

He gazed at her body with such intensity that she shivered, in spite of the heat building in her blood.

He took her in his arms and kissed her, his hands exploring her flesh. She gasped quietly, but grew tense.

"What you need," Elrond recommended, "is a nice, relaxing bath."

The water was deliciously warm and sensual; it did not have the heavy odor of some mineral springs, but exuded a fragrant, musky, woodland smell, clean and fresh.

At one end there was a stone bench under the surface upon which one could sit across or straddle. Elrond did the latter and guided Culurien to sit in front of him, her back facing his chest.

He tied her hair up out of the way and began to massage her neck and shoulders with slow rhythmic strokes, his strong hands moving in ever widening circles down her back.

He reached the bottom, beneath the water and started up again, exerting just the right amount of pressure to relax her muscles. As he reached her shoulders once more, he pulled her against his chest and leaned back slightly.

Elrond began a soft caress of the front of her shoulders with less pressure, his hands moving in slow deliberate circles, inching ever lower. Culurien moaned with pleasure when they reached her nipples, his hands lingering there, as they stiffened beneath his touch.

He looked down over her shoulder as he fondled her breasts, his breath coming quick and hot. His hands reluctantly left her chest, moving downwards only to circle back again, loath to move on. Finally, he abandoned them altogether as his hands began a slow rotation over her hips and inner thighs. She began to move against him as her arousal increased, intensifying his own ache with the motion.

Elrond's fingers found what they were seeking and deeply probed and stimulated the source of her desire. Culurien arched her back sharply and cried out as he increased the pressure of his touch.

The force of her reaction took him by surprise as he lost his balance and slipped off the back end of the bench. She had thrown herself back at him during her climax and they both ended up under the water with her lying on top of him.

He struggled, trying to get to the surface. Culurien came up; gasping for air and Elrond was close after her. He made choking sounds, coughing up water. Culurien was better off, her dunking having been brief.

Elrond put his hands on the side of the pool and continued coughing, his lungs trying to expel the fluid.

"Elrond, Elrond," she cried, pounding him on the back. He pulled himself out of the pool and lay on the floor panting.

"Elrond!" she cried again, greatly distressed. He held up his hand, silencing her and coughed up more water.

"Lady," he gasped when he could finally speak. "You have near drowned me!"

Culurien got out of the pool and returned to him with towels. She wrapped one around herself and with the other, dried those parts of him that she could reach.

Elrond stood, wrapping the towel around his slender hips. He contemplated her for a moment, his hands pushing his wet hair back off his face.

"Well, that certainly dampened our ardor," he said with a wry smile.

Culurien was close to tears. "I am so sorry.”

His sarcasm melted as he took her in his arms. "It is all right, do not fret.”

"For a moment I thought I had killed you," she said, the tears quietly rolling down her face.

"Hush, little one, hush.” He stroked her wet hair, holding her tightly.

After a short while, he released her and sat on the edge of the bed. "We should begin again, perhaps? This seems to be a more secure platform."

Culurien eyed the bed doubtfully, judging how easily one could roll off and hit the floor. She removed some pillows and blankets from it and placed them on the carpet in front of the fire.

"Here," she indicated.

Elrond smiled. "That will work.”

They made themselves comfortable among the cushions and covers, lying in each other's arms. They watched the flickering flames as they gave each other small, soft caresses and kisses. It was not long before their pulses quickened once again. Their kisses grew longer and their touches grew more intimate.

Culurien lay on her back as Elrond moved his mouth down her neck. His tongue traced the swell of her breasts and he nestled his head there, his mouth gently exploring. She closed her eyes, relishing the sensations that washed over her.

Elrond's tongue had found her navel and was gently probing the indentation, never leaving it as he shifted his position, placing his knees between her thighs. His mouth continued its soft, heated journey as he spread her legs apart.

Culurien gasped at the touch of his tongue, hot waves of pleasure spreading through her. The feelings grew more intense and she started to wriggle around, not knowing if she wanted to escape from his touch or receive more.

Elrond chose for her, tightening his grip on her and increasing pressure. She cried out as the sensations exploded into fireworks of ecstasy.

Elrond could wait no longer, he was beyond ready. He came up on his knees and invaded her suddenly, urgently, with no warning. Culurien drew in her breath sharply.

He froze. "Pain?"

"No," she gasped. "Surprise. You are like hot iron."

He collected himself together for a moment. He looked into her eyes as he began a slow, gentle rocking motion. She sighed and put her arms around his ribcage, her legs locked around his hips, their bodies moving to the same rhythm. The heat began building in her once more.

He steeled together all of his willpower as he quickened the pace. Their breathing became rapid and shallow as they rushed, frantically toward the ultimate moment. Finally, Elrond rolled his eyes back and moaned, low in his throat, as his passion spent in a last frenzy of movement.

He let his body relax against her, waiting for the pounding in his chest to subside. He kissed her cheek, and then looked at her face.

"Linariel," he whispered. She made no response, her eyes were closed. Elrond became concerned.

"Culurien," he said, louder. She still did not respond. He laid his head on her chest, listening, and then opened her eyelids with his fingers. Sighing, he got up, taking the ewer from the table, he quickly crossed the room, filling it at the waterfall. He returned and knelt beside her, pouring the pitcher of water directly on her face. It was icy cold.

Culurien's eyelids fluttered and she started to choke. She moved to get away from the water. He continued to empty the jug over her head.

"Stay," she cried rolling away from him. "What are you doing?"

"I am avenged for the pool," he said, a small smile playing across his lips.

"Why are you doing this?" she cried, gathering up the blankets and wrapping them around her.

Elrond looked amused. "You fainted.”

"How do you mean, fainted?" she asked.

"Fainted," he said. "Unconscious, passed out, swooned."

She snorted. "I do not faint.”

"So you think," he answered. "You were entirely unaware."

"Why would I faint?"

"I know not," said Elrond. "Perhaps the intensity of our coupling was too much for you."

"Well, I can believe that," Culurien said. "Intense it was." She was quiet for a moment, and then a slightly wicked smile curved her lips. "Another bath?"

He looked at her with narrowed eyes.

"I will stay far away from you," she added helpfully.

He laughed, pulling her tight against him. "I would not want that for a moment.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  



	16. Two Lives

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beautiful but spurned elf maiden Culurien, well not exactly a maiden, goes to Imladris for spiritual healing and encounters Elrond. A romantic comedy with dark undertones.

Rated: R sexual situations

  
They lived two lives, friendly acquaintances by day, passionate lovers by night. There were just a few people privy to their secret. Lindir, whose only reaction was a raise of his eyebrow and a new discretion in his manner whenever Culurien was in Elrond's chamber, and Glorfindel, who now wore a very beautiful ring that once belonged to Thingol, King of Doriath.

Glorfindel had taken the news with great delight, slapping Elrond on the back, shaking his hand vigorously, beside himself with glee.

"Why are you so happy?" asked Elrond, somewhat embarrassed.

Glorfindel grinned. "It is a monumental achievement for you.”

"From your manner, one would think you had achieved it," said Elrond, dryly.

"So I did, in a way," he responded. "If not for my exceptional wisdom, the event would not have come to pass.” He smiled happily. “Perhaps I will acquire a new reputation as a giver of good advice to the lovelorn.”

"You are giving advice to the lovelorn, Glorfindel?" asked Arwen, poking her head around the half-opened door of her father's study.

"Well yes, I . . ." began Glorfindel. Elrond, who was standing next to him, stepped firmly on his foot. Glorfindel covered up an exclamation of pain with a bright smile.

“. . . have some experience in that area," he said. "May I be of any assistance to you, Lady Arwen?"

Arwen looked at her father, who in turn was looking at Glorfindel, scowling.

"Nay, I think not," she answered wisely, "I am not in any need of it. My goodness," she continued. "What a beautiful ring!"

"Thank you," responded Glorfindel. "It was a pres . . . heirloom of my house only just recently passed down to me. Your father had it in his keeping.”

"Why on Arda would you have had it, Adar?" asked Arwen. "You and Glorfindel are not of the same descent."

"Many heirlooms are left in trust with me, Undómiel," Elrond said quickly. "Consider the Hall of Kings."

"But why wait until now to give it to Glorfindel?" she persisted.

"He forgot," said Glorfindel.

Elrond blinked at him. Glorfindel shrugged.

Arwen gave him a keen look. "You have been very preoccupied lately, Ada.”

"Yes, indeed I have and I apologize to you, Undómiel, I have neglected you shamefully," said Elrond, very contritely.

Arwen looked from one of them to the other. "There is some hidden joke here that escapes me."

Elrond and Glorfindel both managed to look very innocent.

"No indeed," said Elrond, taking her by the arm and dismissing Glorfindel with a curt nod of his head. Glorfindel slipped out and shut the door before Arwen could even notice he was gone.

"Did you have a reason for seeking me out, Undómiel?"

"No," said she. "I merely had not seen much of you lately."

"Well, how can you expect to see me if you spend all of your time alone, in your chambers?"

"I am sorry," she said. "I have had much need for private thought."

"Any thing you wish to share with me?" he asked quickly.

She considered a moment. "I think not, nothing pressing.”

"Well then, feel free to come to me with any problems," he said, "my door is always open to you.”

With that, he led her to the door, opening it. He gave her a quick kiss on her forehead.

"Pleasant dreams," he said, ignoring the confused expression on her face. He guided her gently out, and then closed the door behind her.

Elrond looked across the room to the door that connected to his bed chamber. It was slightly ajar and he could perceive a bright green eye peering through it.

"I believe we are alone," he murmured.

"Finally," Culurien said as she came into the room. It was some time before they spoke again, their lips being otherwise occupied.

"I feel terrible keeping this a secret from her," Culurien said to Elrond's neck.

"As do I," he whispered to her hair.

"Are you certain we cannot tell her?" she asked his shoulder as she unbuttoned his shirt.

"My vision is cloudy in this matter," he said to her cleavage, "but I do not feel she will take it well."

"I do not want her to resent me," she said to the top of his head.

"It is best to be discreet for now," he said to one of her breasts.

"She is not dense, she will catch on eventually," Culurien said to Elrond's forehead.

"She is preoccupied with Estel," he said firmly to her nipple.

"I thought that was a bad thing," she said to Elrond's hair.

"He will be away for many years," he said to her other breast, "so why fret about it now?"

"Absence makes the heart grow fonder?" she asked the tip of his nose.

He looked up from his kneeling position on the floor. "Culurien, you will get lines on your face from worry if you go on."

"I cannot help myself," she said as he pulled her dress the rest of the way down.

"What are you more worried about, Arwen and Estel, or Arwen knowing about us?" he earnestly addressed her thighs as he lifted her shift.

"Worried about?" she asked, her eyes glazing over as she sighed in pleasure. "I have no worries at all.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  



	17. Confusion and Confessions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beautiful but spurned elf maiden Culurien, well not exactly a maiden, goes to Imladris for spiritual healing and encounters Elrond. A romantic comedy with dark undertones.

Rated: PG13 for adult themes, language

Spring became summer and summer became fall, much too quickly. Elrond and Culurien slept outside on the floor of his terrace most nights, gazing at the stars.

_There was definitely a new chill in the air,_ she thought, pulling the blanket higher over her bare shoulders as she snuggled against Elrond's warm, sleeping body.

He stirred and rolled towards her, his arm going around her waist.

"Mmmph," he said, sleeping still. She touched his face, her fingers lightly caressing his smooth skin.

"I love you," Culurien whispered to him.

"Mmmm," he answered. She continued to trace the curves of his face with her forefinger, lingering over his lips and the dimple in his chin.

He slowly opened one eye and regarded her with it. "Morning, already?"

"Just barely dawn," she whispered, still touching him.

Elrond's arms tightened around her as he breathed a sigh of contentment. "Do you know how happy I am, Linariel?"

"Not as happy as I," she responded.

They lay silent as the sky behind the mountains began to glow, the snow capped peaks becoming golden ahead of the ascent of Anar.*

Elrond heard a noise from the bed chamber and saw Lindir, his back discreetly to the terrace, setting out hot tea and fresh bread. Lindir coughed pointedly and left the room.

"The morning breakfast signal," said Elrond, sitting up and pulling a robe over his head. Culurien caught the garment he tossed her.

Elrond poured out the tea. "What are your plans this day?"

"I know not," she said. "Come riding with me."

Elrond sighed. "Alas, I wish that I could, too many duties claim me."

Culurien smiled. "Tell me something I do not know. Perhaps I can persuade Arwen."

"There is a thought," said he, "for she needs to get out more."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Culurien entered the main house, pulling off her riding gloves. Arwen had opted to stay outside, walking through the gardens.

She made her way to the door of Elrond's chamber and looked around. There was no one about. She opened the door without knocking and quickly entered the room. He did not seem to be there.

Then, something caught her eye on the terrace and she moved to get a clearer view. There he sat, with his back to her, she could see his long, black hair; his boots were up on the railing.

_I will surprise him,_ she thought, smiling mischievously. She tiptoed up behind him, laid a hand on his shoulder and began to whisper hotly in his ear.

He looked at her, startled, his eyes wide. "You want to do what to me?"

All of the color drained out of Culurien's face. It was not Elrond. She froze and stood, stunned, unable to move.

"What is happening, who are you?" asked a voice off to the side. She saw another elf standing a ways to her right. She looked from one face to the other. They were twins and they looked remarkably like Elrond.

Culurien's hand went to her mouth as she stared at him, terrified, rooted to the spot.

The first twin rose and put his arm around her. "Perhaps I should know your name before we have such intimate relations," he smirked.

Culurien found her feet and fled, shaking free of his grasp.

"Who do you suppose that was?" Elladan asked his brother. "I have never received such a lewd proposition."

"Did you see the look on her face?" asked Elrohir. "She mistook you for someone else." The light dawned suddenly. "Adar," he said with wide eyes.

Elladan snorted. "You are speaking of our sire, Elrond, are you not? There is no one more proper than he. He would never . . .” Elladan stopped. "I would not have thought it possible," he added more quietly.

"Well," said Elrohir with a wink. "Shall we make some discreet inquiries?"

"After you," responded his brother.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Culurien tried to fight down the panic that rose in her throat as she raced through the house. _Where was Elrond?_ The council chamber was empty. The library, she thought, turning in that direction.

She opened the heavy door and walked into the dim, musty room.

"Elrond," she whispered loudly, wringing her hands.

"Here," said a voice far above her.

She looked up and searched for him, finally spotting him at the top of one of the ladders, open book in hand, reading intently.

Culurien looked at him with great anguish. "I must speak with you.”

"What is troubling you?" he asked, his nose in the book still.

She practically wailed. "Right now, please.”

He closed the volume and looked down at her. He then lightly descended the ladder, facing outwards. She ran into his arms, crying inconsolably.

"Hush now, whatever ails you?" he asked with great astonishment.

"I believe I just met your sons," she sobbed into his shoulder.

"Have you indeed?" he asked, surprised. "I was unaware they were here."

"They look very much like you," she said, still sobbing. "Especially from the back."

"This is true, but it is nothing to weep about."

Culurien looked up at him, her face wet. "I thought that he was you; I said things to him that I should not have."

Elrond raised his eyebrows. "What did you say?"

"I cannot tell you," she said, her eyes filling with pain. "It is too awful."

"You had no such problem the first time you uttered it.”

"Whatever shall I do?" Culurien cried, extremely distressed. "I shall never be able to face them again."

"Oh, come, it cannot be as bad as all that," said Elrond. "I will speak with them, they will not dare to show you any disrespect."

"That merely throws a blanket over the problem, it does not dispel it," Culurien said, wiping her eyes.

"The memory will fade, eventually.”

She looked as though the tears were returning. "That is not very encouraging.”

Elrond sighed. "Where did you see them?"

"They were on your terrace.”

"Come, then," he said, leading her.

"I cannot," she gasped, trying to free her wrist from his hand.

"We will do it together," he insisted firmly.

She had very little choice but to follow him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Arwen was coming back from her walk when she saw her brothers. She embraced them both happily. "Where is Estel?"

"I believe he is in Bree," said Elladan.

"You left him alone?" she asked, distressed.

"He is not alone," said Elrohir. "He is with other Dúnedain, his kin."

"Oh," she said, only a little less worried. "How is he?"

"He is fine," said Elladan, a little bit puzzled. "I was unaware you knew him well."

"I do not," said Arwen quickly. "I am merely making a polite inquiry."

"I see," said Elrohir, raising an eyebrow and winking at his brother.

"What are you both up to?" she asked, changing the subject quickly. "You look rather smug."

The twins exchanged glances. "Well," said Elrohir quietly, "we are gathering all the gossip about Adar."

Arwen was puzzled. "What about him?"

Elladan looked around and lowered his voice. "It appears to be a poorly kept secret that he has taken up with some cute doxy. I am surprised that you have not heard anything."

"Doxy?" gasped Arwen. "Who is it and what do you know of it?"

"I know not her name," said Elladan. "We were waiting for him in his chamber, when she came up behind me and made some very suggestive remarks."

"She obviously thought our brother was Adar," said Elrohir.

"You met her, then?" asked Arwen. "What did she look like?"

"Very pretty," said Elladan, "with golden red hair and beautiful green eyes."

Arwen felt herself go into shock, her face paling.

"What is wrong?" asked Elladan, concerned.

Arwen stared straight ahead, saying nothing. Suddenly she turned and ran from the room.

"She appears to be an acquaintance of our sister's," surmised Elrohir.

"Presumably so," agreed his brother.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Arwen was out of breath when she reached Elrond's chamber. She opened the door to his study with a great yank. Elrond and Culurien turned to face her as she stood there, open mouthed. Culurien's eyes were red and swollen from crying.

"I do not believe it!" Arwen cried angrily. "How could you?!" They all stared at each other for a long moment.

There was a soft knock and Elladan's head appeared around the door.

"Adar, I need to . . . uh, oh, too late," he said, seeing Arwen.

"How could you?!" Arwen repeated with some heat. "How dare you do such a thing?!"

Elrond had been holding Culurien's arm and she began to struggle, trying to twist out of his grasp. "Please," she whispered, nearly hysterical, "let me go."

"Culurien," Elrond began, and then, "Culurien!" as she broke free and ran.

Elrond looked at his daughter darkly. "Kindly remember to whom you speak.”

"Come in here," he commanded Elladan, who obeyed, followed by Elrohir, who closed the door behind them.

Elrond folded his arms and stared grimly at his offspring. "You may as well know the truth," he said, finally. "Culurien and I are lovers."

"Adar," said Arwen with great anguish. "How could you do this to her, to her self respect? I brought her here for healing and you take her as your mistress?"

"I have done no such thing," snapped Elrond.

"There are no pretty words for it, Adar," cried Arwen. "I know Culurien and she would never enter into this type of sordid relationship unless coerced."

Elladan and Elrohir exchanged looks, but said nothing.

Elrond took a deep breath and walked a step closer to his daughter, his eyes flashing. "You seem to have missed something, Arwen, I said she was my lover, not my whore.”

"Why then, are you sneaking around? How long has this been going on?"

"Since springtime," answered Elrond, "and we are not ‘sneaking,' we are merely being discreet."

"Why even do that?" asked Elladan. "Why not get married?"

"I cannot marry," said Elrond with some exasperation. "Why does everybody not see this?"

"You do not seriously consider yourself still married to Naneth?" Elrohir asked, surprised.

"Of course I am," said Elrond. His children exchanged looks.

"If you say so, Adar," said Elladan, "but it does not seem so to me."

"There has been no annulment," said Elrond. "Separation does not constitute divorce."

"It is not as though she is living in the next village," said Elrohir.

Elrond sighed. "One is not at liberty to pick and choose which laws to obey and which ones to ignore."

Elladan looked as though he wanted to roll his eyes, but did not dare. "Well, why not at least have an engagement of sorts? It will not be breaking any law and will not look nearly as bad as this ‘discretion' as you call it."

"How do you mean ‘look bad?'" asked Elrond, scowling at him. "People are talking?"

"Honestly, Adar," said Elrohir, "I think it is the worst kept secret in Imladris."

"Did you not just arrive?" asked Elrond. “And you know of this already?"

Elladan looked uncomfortable. "Well, after our um . . . earlier encounter, we made an effort to find out a few things."

Elrond grunted. "Well, the gossips are not too well informed, for we are already engaged."

Arwen looked at him in surprise. "Culurien does not wear a ring.”

"Not on her finger, no," said Elrond, "but I have given her one."

Arwen raised an eyebrow. "The entire point of being engaged is to make your feelings public.”

"It is also the symbol of a promise between two people," said Elrond, "publicly stated or not."

"I think you should insist she wear the ring, Adar," said Arwen, "or soon she will have no reputation left."

"Humph," snorted Elrond. "Perhaps you could help me talk to her." He paused and turned to Elladan. "By the way, what did Culurien say to you?"

Elladan became pink. "I do not think I could repeat it, Adar.”

"I would really like to know," insisted Elrond. "Whisper it."

Elladan put his mouth next to his father’s ear. He grew even pinker and Elrond's eyes widened and his jaw dropped. "No wonder she was so upset," he murmured with a small smile.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

*The Sun


	18. Problems in Paradise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beautiful but spurned elf maiden Culurien, well not exactly a maiden, goes to Imladris for spiritual healing and encounters Elrond. A romantic comedy with dark undertones.

Rated: PG13 for adult themes

Elrond and Arwen walked arm in arm up the stairs towards Culurien's room.

"This is why you have been so different lately, happier," she commented as they walked.

"Yes, indeed," he admitted. "Although it has not always been a smooth road."

Arwen smiled. "Nonsense, it was love at first sight."

Elrond raised his eyebrows. "What would you know of this? You, who have had your head in the sand all of this time."

"I have just recalled something Culurien told me," said Arwen. "At your first meeting, when she was presented, she mentioned that when you touched her face, her heart pounded wildly and the room grew hazy."

"So?"

"That sounds like love.”

"Or fear," responded Elrond. "But you are quite correct; there was something there, right from the start."

They had reached Culurien's door. Elrond knocked. "Linariel.” There was no response. "You try," he said to Arwen. Again, no response. Elrond tried the handle. Locked.

As he touched the brass knob, he froze, his face turning grey. "Something is very, very wrong.”

“Do you not have a key?"

"Nay, not to guest chambers," he replied. "There is but one key to these rooms and it is left on the inside, for the use of the guest."

He stepped back and hit the door with his shoulder. Nothing. "Drat these heavy doors," he muttered. He leaned back and gave it a powerful kick with his foot. _I should have been wearing boots,_ he thought, as the pain shot up his ankle. Still the door held. He paused for a moment.

"Come with me," he said, running down the stairs again. Elrond stopped at a storage closet and pulled out a length of rope.

"What on Arda are you doing?" Arwen asked, panting. Elrond made no response. He ran out a side door with Arwen following behind.

They picked their way through the shrubbery along the side of the house until they were standing under Culurien's balcony. Elrond stared up at it, thinking. He put the rope down and began to undress.

"Adar, what are you doing?" Arwen whispered, frantic.

He had shed his robes and his tunic and stood in shirt sleeves and leggings. He made a slip knot at the end of the rope, and then he jumped lightly up on the terrace wall before him, still staring upwards.

He balanced there a moment, his toes grasping the edge, the rope held lightly in his hand. Suddenly he gave it a twirl and the loop flew upwards, neatly landing over a baluster.

"Dispose of those things somewhere," he whispered to Arwen, indicating his clothing. "Meet me back upstairs." After testing the rope with his weight, he quickly shinnied up and climbed over the side of the balcony. He gave Arwen a wave and disappeared.

Arwen smiled as she sped off. He certainly was something, her father.

Elrond moved slowly into the room, calling her name softly. He looked around the corner and sighed with relief. She was on the bed, asleep. He watched her for a moment then he frowned and approached her quickly. Her face was deathly pale, her breathing irregular, sporadic. He lifted her eyelids, and then shook her.

"Culurien!" he said loudly. There was a knock on the door. Elrond crossed the room quickly and turned the key. Arwen came rushing in.

"What is it?" she asked breathlessly, looking at his face.

"She has taken a sleeping draught of some kind," said he, picking up a goblet. He put his finger in and tasted it. "Only much too powerful."

Culurien had shelves full of the many herbs she was studying. Elrond quickly took stock of the collection and selected one. "This will do," he muttered. He ground it and mixed it with water.

"Help me," he said to Arwen. "Support her head." He opened Culurien's mouth and managed to get some of the liquid inside. Then he held it closed and tilted her head back, forcing her to swallow. The effect was almost immediate, in spite of her unconsciousness.

Elrond quickly reached for a basin. He leaned her forward and held her head while she vomited. She groaned and vomited again.

"What is happening?" asked Arwen, turning green herself.

"I am causing Culurien to empty the contents of her stomach," Elrond said matter-of-factly.

"You are causing it?" asked Arwen. "Why?"

"If the poison is not in her stomach any more, it cannot pass into her blood. Here.” He handed her the basin. "Empty this."

Arwen nearly added to the contents of the bowl as she took it out to the balcony. _I hope no one was walking on the path,_ she thought. When she returned, Elrond was trying to get Culurien to walk, his arm around her waist. Her eyes were half opened, but unseeing.

"I think you should dress and go down to dinner," he said. "I can handle this now."

"People will ask for you.”

"That is why you should go, to answer them.”

"What shall I say?"

"Anything that comes to mind.”

"Very well," she said as she left the room.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Arwen opened the door slightly and peered around the edge. The only light in the room came from the fireplace which burned low. She entered quietly and waited for her eyes to adjust to the dimness.

Elrond was sitting on the bed, his legs straight out in front of him, his back leaning against the headboard. Culurien sat in his lap, her head on his shoulder, her legs curled up.

He was singing softly to her, rocking slowly back and forth as he stroked her hair.

Arwen stood transfixed, watching them for several minutes. Tears started to roll silently down her cheeks. Elrond paused and opened his eyes.

"Come in, Undómiel," he whispered.

She crossed the floor and sat on the bed next to him. He touched her cheek, wiping away a tear.

"Do not fret, so," he said. "Everything will be all right."

"Should she be sleeping?" Arwen asked. "I thought you wanted her to wake."

"She is just dozing," said Elrond. "This sleep is beneficial."

They sat in silence for a while. Finally Arwen asked the question that was in both of their minds. "Do you think she tried to kill herself again? Or was it an accident?"

"I know not.” He sighed. "I have not spoken to her yet."

"It is entirely my fault," said Arwen softly, the tears continuing. Elrond looked at her and said nothing. "I have recalled my words when I came into your study," she said. "Culurien may have taken them to heart."

Elrond continued to regard her gravely. "How could she not? You very loudly damned us." Arwen put her head in her hands. "Words can be more powerful than the deadliest of weapons," Elrond continued softly. "The words she heard from you before she fled the room could have easily applied to her, not to me as you meant them."

"I was not angry at her, I was angry at you. I wanted to protect her," Arwen whispered.

"I do not think she took it that way," Elrond sighed.

"Adar," Arwen said, looking at him with great anguish on her face. "I have very nearly destroyed your happiness, please forgive me."

"I do. Learn a lesson from this, Undómiel and some good may come of it," he said, closing his eyes.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


	19. A Sigh of Relief

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beautiful but spurned elf maiden Culurien, well not exactly a maiden, goes to Imladris for spiritual healing and encounters Elrond. A romantic comedy with dark undertones.

Rated: PG13 for a little necking.

It was sometime after dawn when Culurien awoke, her head ached and her mouth tasted nasty. She opened her eyes and looked around. Elrond lay on the bed next to her, asleep. They were both fully clothed. They were in her room and it was cold, the fire having gone out.

Culurien slowly got out of the bed, trying to ignore the pounding in her head. She peered into the ewer, water, thank goodness. She washed her face and rinsed out her mouth. She sat down in the chair and tried to sort out her thoughts.

Memories came back to her and she did not know if they were real or dreams. She wished Elrond would wake, but he lay there looking so peaceful, she did not want to go poke him.

Suddenly Culurien remembered the twins and her terrible mistake. She recalled Arwen, yelling at them. Then they were all there and she ran away, unable to face anyone. She did not know how she got back to her room, her eyes being completely blinded with tears. After that, all went blank.

Culurien stood and went to mix something for her headache. She picked up a dirty goblet and smelled it, _ugh,_ she thought. She rinsed it and picked up a jar of white powder from the shelf, adding several spoonfuls to the water in the goblet. She raised it to her lips and . . .

"Culurien!" Elrond yelled suddenly and the goblet crashed to the floor. Her hands went to her temples.

"Do not yell so," she whispered. "Whatever is your problem?"

Elrond was at her side in an instant. "What do you think you are doing?"

"My head aches, I was mixing a remedy. What is the matter with you?"

He picked up the goblet and smelled it. His face cleared and he relaxed.

"I am sorry. After last night, well . . ."

"What about last night?" she asked him, puzzled.

"You do not remember?"

"I remember quite clearly the afternoon," she said. "Then I came back here and do not recall anything." She paused. "Except for mixing a headache remedy, as I did just now."

Elrond stared at her, his voice sinking to a whisper. "What did you say?"

Culurien stared back at him. "A headache remedy, I mixed a headache remedy. I have only just remembered."

His eyes were wide. "When you left my study, you were extremely distraught.”

"That is true," she agreed.

He continued talking, unblinking. "Your eyelids were swollen; it must have been difficult to see."

"That is true as well.”

"You had a headache.”

Culurien became impatient. "So I have stated and I have one still.”

Elrond looked at her briefly. His eyes flickered. "Bear with me. You went to the shelf, took down the powder . . ."

"That is the wrong one," she said. "You have picked up the sleeping powder."

“You took down the powder," he repeated. He opened the jar; it was nearly empty. "You could not see," he whispered, "and you picked up the wrong jar."

"What are you talking about?" she asked, frowning.

He showed her the jar of sleeping powder.

She was puzzled. "That should not be empty.”

"You picked up the wrong jar," he repeated. "You did not mix headache powder, you mixed sleeping powder."

"That is ridiculous. That amount of sleeping powder would have killed me."

Elrond stared at her, the empty jar still in his hand. "It very nearly did.”

"What are you talking about?" Culurien asked him again quietly, her face pale.

"You might have died last night if Arwen and I had not found you in time," he explained. "We wondered if perhaps you were upset enough to . . . to . . ." He could not go on. "You were very upset."

She looked at him in disbelief. "I did not try to kill myself.”

"I realize that, now.”

"You saved my life?" she asked. He nodded. "How?"

He handed her the jar containing the herb he had fed her last night.

"Ugh. No wonder my mouth tastes terrible."

"I am so glad it was an accident," said Elrond softly. Culurien came over to him and held him close.

"I would never leave you," she whispered. "Never, not intentionally, not now, not ever."

Elrond hugged her tightly and fought back the tears that were filling his eyes.

"So close you came, so very close," he whispered. They were quiet for several moments.

He then held her at arm's length, looking at her sternly. "Do I need to remove these things from your room or will you practice more responsibility?"

She looked into his eyes. "You may remove them. I have no more need of them."

He smiled and pulled her tightly into his embrace once more. There was a soft knock at the door, but they heard it not.

Arwen opened the door, looked at them, and then shut it again. This time the knock was louder. They parted, reluctantly.

Elrond sighed. "Come.”

Arwen entered, hesitating slightly. Culurien looked at her with distress, for nothing had been explained to her yet. Arwen walked up to her friend and gave her a hug. Culurien embraced her as well and they both burst into tears.

"I am sorry," they said, almost at the same time. They looked at each other, and then started laughing through the tears.

"I was not angry with you, I was angry with Adar for taking advantage of you.”

"He has done nothing to incur your anger.”

"That I now know," said Arwen. "Which you would be aware of as well if you had stayed and maybe it would not have come to this."

Elrond cleared his throat. "Actually, nothing has come to anything.”

Arwen looked at him. "Could you possibly repeat that, Ada and perhaps make sense this time?"

Culurien explained. "I thought I was mixing headache powder, but I mixed sleeping powder. They look similar. They do not taste the same, but I suppose I was too upset to notice."

Arwen hugged her once more and sighed with relief. "I am sorry. We found you in this state, and after Lothlórien, I am afraid I just assumed . . . but I am so happy it was not true. Because of my words, I thought I drove you to it."

"It was a most upsetting afternoon," said Culurien, "between my making a fool of myself to your brother, and you hearing what you heard."

She turned to Elrond. "Did I not say it would be better to tell her ourselves?"

"Did I not say she would not take it well?" he returned, "and she did not."

"But that could be in direct relation to the way in which she found out," argued Culurien.

"She would have drawn her own conclusions no matter what.”

Arwen looked from one of them to the other. "Show me your ring, Culurien," she said abruptly.

Culurien started, surprised. "Yes, certainly.” She drew out the chain.

Arwen gasped. "It is truly beautiful. Why are you not wearing it on your finger?"

Culurien looked at Elrond. "Well, I . . ."

"You should wear it," Arwen persisted.

Culurien looked at Elrond again

"It is my wish also you should wear it, Linariel," he said quietly. "But you do as your heart tells you."

"But what will I say if I am asked?"

"You will tell them you are engaged to the Lord of Imladris," said Arwen, firmly.

Culurien went a little pale. "I cannot make that kind of announcement.”

"No, indeed, you certainly cannot," agreed Elrond.

"Then you must do it, Adar," said Arwen, turning to him.

Elrond raised his eyebrows. "Perhaps the job should fall to you, Undómiel, you feel so strongly about it."

"I would be happy to do so.”

Elrond and Culurien looked at each other. "There is no turning back now," he murmured.

"It is settled, then," said Arwen. "Tonight at dinner." She paused. "What was it you said to my brother, by the way, I seem to be the only one not to know."

Elrond coughed. "An omission that will continue.”

"That returns us to the other problem,' Culurien said with a sigh.

He rubbed her shoulder. "Perhaps if you were formally introduced, we could work that problem out."

"As long as we are taking the bull by the horns," Culurien smiled wryly, "we may as well continue."

"A good idea," said Arwen, leaving them. "I will bring them back here.”

Culurien and Elrond looked at each other again. "Very decisive, is she not?" asked Culurien.

"She will make a good queen," agreed Elrond.

"Queen?" asked Culurien. "Queen of what?"

"Queen of Gondor and Arnor," said Elrond quietly, "or in other words, most of Middle-earth."

"These are kingdoms of men," said Culurien.

"Indeed, yes.”

She put her arms around him. "What is it you see?"

"There are two roads," he said, sighing. "The better one has Estel fulfilling his potential, defeating the Enemy and re-gaining the throne of Gondor. Arwen will marry him and bring strength to the blood of Númenor once again. The second road sees Estel perishing, unable to fulfill his quest and Arwen dying of grief."

"The first road seems preferable to me," said Culurien.

"Yes," Elrond agreed. "At least Arwen will have happiness for a short while, the second road offers none."

Culurien frowned. "How do you mean, ‘short while?'"

"When I leave Middle-earth, Arwen will lose the grace of the Eldar."

"She will die?" asked Culurien, horrified. "Why do you not stay longer, then?"

"I cannot increase Estel's life. Better that she should die with him, than suffer without him." He sighed again. "Better for her if she had never met him, but I fear it was meant to be."

Culurien was silent. "Can you foretell which road seems likely?"

"The first.”

"Why?”

"The throne of Gondor could not be regained until the One Ring was found and this has come to pass.”

She was puzzled. "What is the ‘One Ring?'"

"It is a tool of Sauron the Enemy. The elves of Eregion made many magical rings with the aid of Sauron, who had gained their trust for a short while. The culminations of their efforts were the Great Rings of Power, forged by Celebrimbor, grandson of Fëanor who created the silmarils."

Elrond closed his eyes and appeared to be caught up in a tumult of emotion of some kind. He took a deep breath and continued. "These rings were given to the three major races of Middle-earth, elves, men and dwarves. Secretly, however, Sauron forged a master ring to control the others and all who hold these rings fall subject to his bidding."

"Those that hold the elven rings are bound to his will?" she asked, wide-eyed.

"Nay, those alone are outside his power, for his dark hand never touched them. Celebrimbor perceived the plot of Sauron, finally and hid the three away from him."

Culurien looked shrewdly at Elrond for a long moment. "You are the keeper of one of these rings, are you not?”

He raised his eyes to look into hers. "Yes. On my hand I wear Vilya, the ring of the Air."

She looked at his hands. "I see no magical ring. They seem common and ordinary."

"Only another ring-bearer can see it for what it is," said he. "You see an ordinary ring, mortal eyes see nothing."

"Through this you can see the One Ring?"

"I can feel the resurgence of its power," he responded. "It is actively seeking the hand of its master."

"You said it was found. Where is it?"

"I know not.” Elrond looked troubled. "I know only that it stirs. No powerful entity possesses it, certainly, or I should feel myself unmasked and vulnerable."

He looked into her eyes. "This is not a subject for common talk, however. You may speak of this only to me and only when we are alone."

Culurien put her hand over his. They sat in silence until Arwen returned with her brothers.

Elrond stood as Elladan and Elrohir came into the room. They had their eyes cast down and shuffled their feet uncomfortably.

Elrond cleared his throat. "May I present Culurien, daughter of Helfelas of Eryn Galen* to my sons, Elladan and Elrohir."

She curtsied and they made small bows.

"Culurien and I will make a public announcement of our engagement tonight.”

"Actually, I am announcing," Arwen interrupted.

Elrond looked sideways at her. "Just so.”

The twins stepped forward. "Congratulations, Adar.” They each embraced him. They turned to Culurien. "Congratulations," Elladan said with a smile on his face, his eyes friendly, without judgment.

"Thank you," she whispered.

"That is all," Elrond said, dismissing everyone with a wave. When they had left, he looked at Culurien. "That was a good start. Do you feel any better?"

Her cheeks dimpled. "It does help to be official.”

His arms went around her waist and he contemplated her for a moment. "This has been a long morning already and the day has only just begun. I know not what you care to do, but I feel the distinct need of a bath, then perhaps some breakfast."

"Then, after that, perhaps another bath?" Culurien pulled him close and kissed his neck.

"Indeed, yes. One cannot take too many baths." His mouth found her ear and her skin began to tingle. Her hands reached under his shirt and caressed his chest. They moved around to his lower back, exploring the curves of his hips and buttocks.

He pressed himself against her and she felt the strength of his desire through the soft fabric of his leggings.

"Perhaps the bath can wait, after all," he murmured, his mouth hotly exploring her neck and shoulder.

"Indeed, yes.” She eyed the bed. "Nap first, bath later."

"One cannot take too many naps," he agreed.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  
*Greenwood Forest (Mirkwood)


	20. The White Council

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beautiful but spurned elf maiden Culurien, well not exactly a maiden, goes to Imladris for spiritual healing and encounters Elrond. A romantic comedy with dark undertones.

Rated: PG13 for sexual situations

T.A.2953

"How do you mean, change in plans?" asked Elrond, frowning.

Gandalf sighed. "The Council will meet here, as it did once before.”

"For what reason? Why change from meeting at Isengard?"

"I know not.” Gandalf shrugged. "Only that it is by request of Saruman."

Elrond raised an eyebrow and looked at Círdan. "What think you of this development?"

Círdan smiled. "I question not the ways of wizards. Imladris is easier for me than Isengard, I have no protest."

"Nor do I," Elrond admitted, "except that it is strange. Saruman is not likely to venture forth at no need, on a whim, as it were, not when he can sit comfortable with us attending him." He turned back to Gandalf. "The others have been notified?"

"They have," returned Gandalf. "Radagast has taken care of it."

Elrond grunted. "When can we expect everyone?"

"Within the week, I believe.”

Elrond motioned them both into chairs and poured out drinks for his guests. A small smile crossed his lips. "I was looking forward to this excursion. I seldom get out any more."

"Now the excursion comes to you," said Círdan, smiling back.

Elrond took a sip of his drink and suddenly the smile left his face. He put his glass down on the table and uttered a long, colorful string of oaths in Quenya.

Gandalf had his glass halfway to his mouth and paused, his eyebrows raised. "Such language, Master Elf," he admonished. "What is troubling you?"

"The council will meet here," said Elrond.

"Yes, this is what we have been talking about."

"Here," repeated Elrond. "Here in Imladris."

Gandalf and Círdan exchanged a quick glance. "Is there a problem?"

"Galadriel and Celeborn will be coming here," Elrond elaborated.

"They are Council members," said Gandalf. Elrond closed his eyes and sighed.

Círdan became concerned."What is it that troubles you?"

"Nothing earth-shaking, forgive my outburst," said Elrond. "It will just be awkward, extremely awkward to explain about Culurien to them."

"Ah," said Gandalf, comprehending.

"Who?" asked Círdan, who did not.

Elrond rubbed his eyes. "My betrothed.”

Círdan looked puzzled. "I thought you were married already?"

"Therein lays the difficulty," said Elrond. "How to explain my engagement to my wife's parents."

Círdan looked thoroughly bewildered. "What am I missing here?"

Elrond put his hand on Círdan's shoulder. "Worry not. Tis not your problem."

"Thank-you," said Círdan. "I find that to be very helpful."

Gandalf attempted to console him. "The problem would have had to have been faced, eventually.”

"Eventually, I may have found a solution around the problem," said Elrond. "Right now, I have not."

They sat in silence for a moment. Círdan poured himself another drink, wondering if it would be better or worse to ask any more questions.

"Perhaps they will be sympathetic," said Gandalf. "When did you last see them?"

Elrond sighed. "A century ago, at the last Council. They knew naught of our marital problems, so far as I could ascertain. Celeborn especially seemed to think that Celebrían and I were counting the days until we would be together again."

Gandalf stroked his beard. "That is not a good sign.”

"Mithrandir," said Elrond, his voice heavy with sarcasm, "your grasp of the obvious never ceases to amaze me."

Gandalf chuckled. "Thank Eru it is not my problem.” He helped himself to more wine.

"I am still not certain what the problem is," muttered Círdan under his breath.

Elrond sat up in his chair and stared at him.

"What?"

"You could do it.”

"I will do anything in my power for you," Círdan said, "if only I understood what you are talking about."

"You could annul my marriage, could you not?"

Círdan looked at him. "I hardly think so.”

"You are the oldest, the wisest of all the Noldor in Middle-earth," Elrond continued. "You are a ring bearer, you have great power."

"Ah, ahem," Círdan glanced at Gandalf. "I have passed the Ring of Fire to someplace where it would be more useful."

Elrond looked from one of them to the other. "Fine. What of you, Mithrandir, could you-?”

"Stop right there," said Gandalf, holding up his hand. "The Valar have given me no power over laws and customs."

"Fine.” Elrond turned back to Círdan, who shook his head.

"I may be old," said he, "but I am no prince or king, I have not the authority."

He regarded Elrond for a moment. "This is the problem, then. Your wife left you, when?

"Four hundred years ago," said Elrond.

Círdan looked at Gandalf. "That seems long enough to assume she is not coming back.”

Elrond looked up. "Then you think I could get married again?”

"Nay, of course not," said Círdan. "You need to have an annulment. I was merely agreeing that you had grounds."

Elrond sighed. "Have some more wine," said Gandalf. "Just think, next week you will have Saruman here to exasperate you."

"Your words carry great comfort to me, old friend, thank-you," said Elrond, his head in his hands.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Culurien jumped up. "Say it again.”

Elrond smiled. "I am not going.”

Her arms went around his neck and she nearly choked him with her enthusiasm.

"Stay," he said, laughing, trying to loosen her grasp. She covered his face with kisses.

"You may, perhaps want to hear why I am not going.”

"I care not about your reasons, I care only that you will not be gone for two months," she said hotly into his ear.

"Ah, umm.” Elrond wondered if the bad news could wait. _For a little while,_ he thought, kissing her deeply. Within minutes, all thoughts of bad news were driven completely out of his mind.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"It would be better if you explained first and then they saw me.”

"But how to even bring it up?" Elrond frowned. "Oh, by the way, your daughter and I were living a sham of a marriage; maybe you were even aware she had a lover."

"Well, even you do not know that for certain," said Culurien.

"You are correct," Elrond replied, "I do not."

It was several days later, and they were walking through the gardens as they talked.

Culurien picked a bright flower. "How long will they be here?"

"At least a month. Perhaps longer if they wish to spend time with Arwen."

"It would be difficult for me to try to hide," she suggested reluctantly.

"I would not ask you to even consider it," he said, putting his arm around her waist. "This is your home and as Lady of Imladris, you do not hide from guests."

"That is actually, an amusing thought," she said, her cheeks dimpling.

"Yes, indeed," he agreed, "especially when one thinks of Saruman."

"Is he as bad as all that?"

Elrond grimaced. "Worse.”

"Well, in spite of the potential problems with Celeborn and Galadriel, I still think it is better everyone is coming here. You will possibly find it much easier to deal with Saruman here than at Isengard." She paused. "Besides, you would not have lasted a day without me."

Elrond raised his eyebrows. "I had lasted six millennia without you.”

"You did not know what you were missing then," she stated firmly.

He smiled. "This is true, but I think I would have survived for two months."

"No.” She shook her head emphatically. “You would have been reduced to a babbling, incoherent puddle of jelly."

He stopped walking and looked at her in amazement.

"In the two years I have known you," Culurien said smiling, "I think I have come to read you quite well."

"Really?” His eyes danced with amusement.

"Yes," she returned, with an air of superiority. "In fact, I wager that you will not even make it back to the house, without losing all control of yourself."

He turned to her and roughly grasped her hair at the nape of her neck. He pulled her head close to his and looked into her eyes. "You had best watch yourself, Lady, if you start laying wagers with me.”

She smiled and ran her tongue across his lower lip, teasing it. He closed his mouth over hers and his teeth caught her tongue, biting it gently. The moan that escaped from her lips sent shivers through every inch of his body.

She looked up at him, breathing heavily, from her position beneath him on the soft grass. He had her arms pinned over her head with one hand, while with the other; he revealed her breasts to the warm afternoon sun.

"You lose," she whispered hotly.

"Do I?" he murmured, biting her exposed areas playfully. He let go of her arms and she held him tightly, sighing with pleasure.

A flash of color caught Elrond's eye and he looked up a little. His eyes focused on something that looked like blue satin. He blinked and raised his eyes slowly. He found himself staring into the cold, steel-grey eyes of his father-in-law.

"Well, there is one problem solved," Elrond said quietly.

"Which one?"

"How to bring the matter up with them.”

Culurien followed his gaze until she saw what he was looking at. She pushed him off of her unceremoniously and rolled away from them, fastening her gown.

Celeborn was standing on the path, eyeing them through the bushes. "It is all right, my love," he called to someone. "I have found the Lord of Imladris."

"I can explain this," said Elrond, getting quickly to his feet.

"It is not necessary," said Celeborn. "You have been without a wife for four hundred years. It is not surprising that you satisfy your needs with whomever you can."

Elrond's face darkened, while Culurien, still sitting on the grass went scarlet.

"You are not grasping this situation clearly," said Elrond cautiously.

"What is there to grasp? One cannot expect you to remain faithful through four hundred years of separation. You must take your pleasure where you can, until you are reunited."

Elrond blinked, and then started again. "There will be no reunion between Celebrían and me. In fact, as soon as I can find someone to do it, there will be an annulment."

Galadriel came up to them. "What do you mean, annulment?"

Elrond took a deep breath. "Your daughter, Celebrían, left me, left her children, left our marriage four centuries ago. I wish to have an annulment declared."

Galadriel stared at him. "Celebrían left to repair her health.”

Elrond snorted. "Celebrían left me to live in Lothlórien before her health was ever in question."

Celeborn scowled. "What are you talking about?"

"I believe she preferred to be with her lover," Elrond said bluntly.

Celeborn stood still, in shock, while Galadriel looked away.

"How dare you?" he said through clenched teeth. "How dare you demean my daughter in this way?"

Galadriel put her hand on Celeborn's arm. He looked at her. She shook her head. "Stop.”

"What are you saying?"

"I know not," she replied. "I simply think we should not pursue this any further." She looked into his eyes. "Tis a feeling I have.”

She turned to Elrond. "You do as you think necessary." She gazed long at him, her eyes penetrating. She turned to look at Culurien, who was still seated on the grass, her arms around her knees, her head bowed. "You may introduce us to your friend.”

Elrond cleared his throat. "Actually, I believe you have met." He took Culurien's hand and pulled her up. "This is Culurien, daughter of Helfelas, formerly of Eryn Galen, formerly married to Gwindor of Lothlórien. We are betrothed.”

"Ah, yes," Galadriel said. "Arwen's friend." Celeborn still looked somewhat hostile.

"Did you just arrive?" Elrond asked, leading them back to the house. "Perhaps you would care to be shown to your rooms so you can freshen up?"

Galadriel nodded graciously. "Thank-you.”

Elrond and Culurien exchanged small smiles of relief as they walked.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


	21. Conflict and Comfort

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beautiful but spurned elf maiden Culurien, well not exactly a maiden, goes to Imladris for spiritual healing and encounters Elrond. A romantic comedy with dark undertones.

Rated:PG

"Would you mind repeating that?" Elrond asked, his grey eyes hard.

"Not at all," Saruman replied, baring his teeth in what passed for a smile. "It is my belief the One Ring is forever lost, carried by the current of the Anduin out to the sea. Without it, Sauron is weak, helpless. He will never regain his former strength. We need not have any more concern for him."

Elrond and Galadriel exchanged a quick glance.

"With the One gone, surely the Three can be revealed openly," Saruman said, his voice smooth and melodious.

Galadriel’s blue eyes glittered like ice. “Since when do Istari* concern themselves with the doings of the Three?"

Saruman smiled at her, showing every tooth. "O wise lady of the Galadhrim," he said soothingly. "We of the Istari are deeply concerned with all that occurs in Middle-earth." He looked at Gandalf and Radagast and smiled again.

"You will leave all talk of the Three out of your concerns," said Galadriel. "It is not permitted to speak of them."

Saruman's eyes flashed. "Surely we have called this Council to discuss openly the Great Rings of Power. Your evasiveness is hindering our objective." He paused. "Did you not wish to know what would happen to the Three if the One was destroyed?" He looked around the room. The elf lords' eyes remained guarded, unfriendly.

"Come, come," he said. "We are all allies, are we not?"

There came the sound of a bell, a long clear note heard throughout the house.

Elrond rose. "We will adjourn this Council for the noontime meal. I would speak, however, to the Edhelrim."* The Istari filed out, but not before Saruman gave them all a dark look.

Elrond waited until the door closed. He then looked at Círdan, Galadriel and Celeborn.

Círdan snorted. "I would trust him not one inch.”

"He is concealing something," agreed Celeborn.

"The One Ring is not lost in the sea," said Galadriel.

Elrond sighed. "I am aware of that as well.”

"Why does he state it as fact?" asked Círdan.

"He knows naught, but wishes to appear knowledgeable," said Galadriel. "He has never been a ringbearer, so he would be unaware of many aspects."

"So how can he know nothing, yet still hide something?" asked Círdan.

Elrond smiled grimly. "A question for the Wise to answer.”

Círdan sighed. "Lunch, I think you mentioned?"

"Yes indeed," said Elrond as they left the council room.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Elrond sat at a long wooden table. He had a very ancient book propped up in front of him and he was reading intently. His hair fell over his eyes as he read and he brushed it away, impatiently.

A hand came up from behind him and gently tucked the long braids behind his ears, but Elrond paid no heed. The hand lingered on the side of his face, stroking it with its fingertips. It continued down his neck and shoulders, rubbing him slowly. Elrond remained absorbed in the book.

The hand was joined by its mate and they moved leisurely down Elrond's back, caressing his hips and buttocks, moving forwards to stroke his thighs.

Elrond slowly turned and looked up to gaze into the hot eyes of his foster father.

"No Herdir," he whispered through clenched teeth, tears in his eyes. He struck out at him blindly.

"Stay!" Culurien exclaimed. "It is all right, be calm."

Elrond lay on his back, breathing heavily. He was drenched with sweat. He opened his eyes and saw Culurien above him, holding his arms down.

"I am sorry," he whispered. "Did I strike you?"

"Nay, I am fine.” She sighed. “I suppose I should know better by now than to touch you like that when you are asleep."

He sat up and rubbed his hands over his face. "I would have the nightmare, whether you touched me or not. I have had it, many times in the past." He put his hands around his knees and looked at her.

"I was at the fall of Thangorodrim. I have witnessed onslaughts of terrible evil; balrogs, dragons, such creatures as the world has seldom since been troubled with. I saw the great evil of Sauron and his vile lieutenants at the foot of Mt. Orodruin." He paused. "Why do I not have nightmares of those traumas? Why do I dream always of this lesser matter?"

"It is not a lesser matter within your mind," she said. "It is a wound of your soul and that gives it importance."

"Cannot the soul ever be healed? The wound remains an open sore, festering, infected."

Culurien touched his face. "I can think of one thing only that would begin to help you."

"What is it?" asked Elrond, warily.

She paused and looked into his eyes. "You must forgive Gil-galad.”

He sighed and rubbed his face with his hands again. He was silent.

"A difficult task.”

"Indeed, yes," said Elrond. "More difficult than you could ever know."

She put her arms around him and held him for a long while, stroking his hair and singing softly to him.

"Im meleth le heryn,"* he whispered.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"What was accomplished?" asked Galadriel, looking around the room.

"Nothing," said Elrond, chin in hand, tapping his fingertips on the table.

Her eyes hardened. "As usual.”

"We could take action anyway," suggested Círdan.

"It would be useless without Saruman," responded Gandalf.

Celeborn scowled. "We have strength without Saruman.”

"He is head of this Council," said Elrond. "Do you wish to openly incur his wrath?"

"So we run around in circles." Galadriel shook her head. "Worse off than when we started."

Celeborn touched her arm. "At least we know where we stand.”

"On shaky ground," sighed Elrond. "Very shaky ground."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

*Wizards

*Elves

*I love you, lady.


	22. A Jump Ahead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beautiful but spurned elf maiden Culurien, well not exactly a maiden, goes to Imladris for spiritual healing and encounters Elrond. A romantic comedy with dark undertones.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because I said so ;)

Rated: PG

* * * * * * * * *

The Third Age of Middle-earth Year 3018

Sixty-five years later

Late Fall

  
They had ridden their horses too hard. The animals were foamy, their sides heaving.

"Almost there," the first rider said, struggling to hold up the limp body of another who sat before him in the saddle. The second rider nodded, acknowledging the reassurance.

"You have never been here?" asked the first rider. The second rider shook his head again, although in a negative fashion, this time. "I have had very few meetings with elves until just recently."

They crossed a shallow ford and began a descent into a valley. The night was dark with no moon or stars and the narrow path was treacherous.

They were challenged at one point by a sharp voice in the shadows. The first rider spoke in a tongue his companion did not understand. A lantern was uncovered and they could see some thirty elven archers before them, arrows pointed directly at their heads. Words were spoken and the archers parted to allow the horsemen through.

At the bottom of the valley they reached another checkpoint. The first rider pulled back his hood and waited.

"Estel!" cried the tall elf that appeared. He spoke rapidly to the first rider, who responded. The second rider tried to understand what was said by reading their tone and expression, with little success.

More elves approached, voicing exclamations of great anguish as they took the unconscious person out of the saddle. Estel, who was known to his companion as Aragorn, beckoned him forward with a wave.

"This is Halbarad," Aragorn said to the elf, "he is one of my kin."

“Welcome," the elf said, stepping forward. He spoke in Westron, the common tongue, somewhat slowly. "I am Arminas, captain of the lower gate of Rivendell."

Halbarad dismounted and took the hand offered to him. "Thank you.”

Arminas turned to Aragorn. "What happened to Elrohir?"

"Badly wounded," replied Aragorn, "but these tidings should be told to his father first."

Arminas bowed and indicated they should pass.

Aragorn led the way to the Hall of Healing. Halbarad followed, gazing around at the great house in awe. They entered a room lined with shelves upon which were stored many books and a great many more jars of various shapes and sizes.

Halbarad saw several elves standing around a table where Elrohir was lying. A tall, slender elf with long black hair looked up as they approached; his deep grey eyes the color of storm clouds.

"I randir tol bar, suilad,* Estel," he said. " Speak to me."

Aragorn approached him while Halbarad slipped to the side.

"We were attacked at Sarn Ford,"* Aragorn said. The tall elf waited silently. "Nazgûl," he whispered.

"Go on," said the elf, a visible shudder passing through his body.

"Six were able to cross the ford and we left the Dúnedain on the other side to worry for them. We dealt with the three who remained on the side with us. They eventually turned east and we pursued them for several days. At one point the rearmost rider turned in his saddle and threw his knife."

Aragorn brought out an object wrapped in cloth. "This is the hilt.” He laid it on the table.

The elf unwrapped the cloth and studied the object. "Certain counter spells may prove effective," he muttered. He looked toward Elrohir. "Why was he not wearing a mail shirt of some kind?"

Aragorn shook his head. "I know not."

The elf looked up and spoke words of instruction to an elven female who stood nearby. Her green eyes were wide with concern for the injured person. She began to gather ingredients from the shelves.

The door opened suddenly and Halbarad saw another female come into the room. She was greatly distressed as she rushed to the table, weeping over Elrohir's inanimate form.

Halbarad could not follow any of the conversation for they continued to speakin their own tongue of which he knew very little.

Aragorn went to comfort the black-haired female who wept at the table. The tall elf gave them a dark look before he returned his attention to his patient. He uncovered the injury, which was in the shoulder. He took a knife and reopened the wound, as it had closed over.

He took the bowl that the green-eyed female handed him and began to wash the injury with the liquid.

Suddenly, Elrohir gave a great shudder then lay still. Those around him gasped, their hands moving to cover their mouths.

"No," said the tall elf quietly, quickly passing his hands over the other's body while saying words in elvish. He paused and listened to Elrohir's chest.

"No!" he said with more strength, his teeth clenched. "Ú gwann, ú gwann!"* He made his hands into a great fist and brought it forcefully down onto Elrohir's heart. He repeated this several times, all the while speaking words in elvish.

Elrohir gave a sudden cough and gasped, his chest moving once again. Everyone in the room breathed a great sigh of relief.

The tall elf sat with his face in his hands for a few moments, saying nothing. The green-eyed female put her hand on his shoulder in a gesture of comfort. He collected himself and continued to clean the wound. He searched through it with his fingers, applying the cleansing liquid.

The dark-haired female, sitting with Aragorn, looked as though she might faint.

At last he found what he was looking for, a small piece of imbedded metal. He left the green-eyed female to finish cleaning and stitching the wound and he turned his attention back to Aragorn.

"Where is Elladan?"

"Still following them," Aragorn responded. "He and several others." Aragorn saw Halbarad, sitting quietly, waiting. He switched his speech to Westron.

"Here with us is a man of my kin," said he. Allow me to present Halbarad, son of Halmor."

Halbarad stood. The tall elf approached him, taking his hand. "Forgive me," he said in the common tongue. "I am not usually so rude to guests. Welcome to Rivendell, Halbarad, I am Elrond."

"Thank-you, Lord," said Halbarad. "Please do not apologize, these are trying circumstances."

Suddenly there was a shriek behind them and they turned. The green-eyed female uttered a string of comments, clutching her hand.

"I do not understand this language," said Halbarad, smiling, "but even I can tell oaths when I hear them."

Elrond stepped over to her, looking at her hand. "By the way," he said to her in Sindarin, "do not touch the hilt of that knife. It will burn you."

She looked at him darkly and moved to apply a salve to her hand.

Aragorn had translated this last exchange for Halbarad. "I do not understand," he said. "You and I both handled the hilt with no ill effects."

"Morgul knives are far more deadly to the Eldar than they are to the Edain,"* said Elrond, returning to them. "Although the blade is no more, the hilt holds much evil still."

He looked around. "Arwen, Culurien," he said. "Come and meet Estel's guest." He paused as they joined him. "This is Halbarad, Dúnadan, kinsman to Estel. My daughter, Lady Arwen. My betrothed, Lady Culurien." They respectively bowed or curtsied. "Lady Culurien speaks very little of your tongue."

"More than you realize," she said slowly.

Elrond was surprised. "Where did you learn that?"

She smiled. "Bilbo has been teaching me."

Halbarad had been gazing at them in wonder. He was unable to accustom himself to this concept of immortality. Arwen and Elrohir looked only a little younger than Elrond, who looked about the same age as Aragorn, who had told him earlier that they were all many thousands of years old, especially Elrond.

He felt light-headed suddenly and put out his hand to steady himself, but there was nothing there and he stumbled. Aragorn caught him before he could fall.

"What is it?" asked Elrond quickly. "Hunger?"

"Possibly," agreed Aragorn, helping Halbarad to a chair. "More likely Black Breath.”

Elrond went to the kettle and ladled into two mugs the liquid that Culurien had made earlier. "Drink please," he said, handing them to Halbarad and Aragorn. Halbarad took a cautious sip. He immediately felt stronger, refreshed and his weariness began to fall away.

Elrond sat on his heels in front of him. "Look at me," he instructed. Halbarad looked. Elrond put his hand on Halbarad's head and whispered something unintelligible. His dark grey eyes were mesmerizing. He broke the stare and turned towards his foster son. "What of you, Estel?"

"I am fine," replied Aragorn. Halbarad was in much closer contact than I."

Elrond seemed satisfied. "I suggest we go to the kitchens and find you something to eat."

Culurien sat down. "I will stay with Elrohir."

Elrond nodded. "And you, Arwen?"

"I will accompany you, Adar," she said, her eyes pleading.

"As you wish."

The hallways were only dimly lit as they made their way to the kitchens. Halbarad was glad he did not have to find his own way, as the house was vast with many corridors branching off on both sides.

The main room of the kitchen was enormous, filled with many fireplaces, ovens, shelves and cabinets.

An elf sitting at a table stood as they entered.

"Caladir," said Elrond, surprised. "You keep late hours tonight. Have you any problems?"

"Only ledgers," replied Caladir with a grimace, referring to the record books in front of him.

"Do not strain yourself with concern of them," Elrond advised his kitchen master.

"So you say now, Lord," responded Caladir dryly. "Differently you will feel at the end of the month when you review them."

Elrond smiled. "You are not suggesting, I hope, that I nit-pick at you?"

"Not at all, Lord," said Caladir quickly, smiling back.

"I am relieved," said Elrond. "I do not want a reputation as a difficult task-master."

Caladir and Aragorn exchanged a quick look, hiding grins. "What can I do for you, Lord?"

"We are hungry," said Elrond, simply.

"Sit down, sit down, I will find you something."

Quick as a flash he laid before them bread and honey, cheese, several cold meats, fruit and wine.

Aragorn and Halbarad wasted no time helping themselves to the food and eating hungrily.

Elrond poured some wine and took an apple, peeling it in silence. Arwen sat quietly, unable to take her eyes off of Aragorn.

He paused in chewing long enough to make a comment. "At least four Rangers were killed at the ford."

Elrond looked grim. "Any news of the hobbit?”

"Nothing," said Aragorn. "No rumor of him at all."

"I pray to Eru he has already left the Shire. You must return to Bree at once and try to intercept him. What news of Gandalf?"

"Nothing," Aragorn repeated.

Elrond frowned. "This does not bode well. He distinctly told me that he would be in the Shire by mid September to guide Frodo Baggins."

"Yes, indeed," agreed Aragorn. "This is very unlike him."

Caladir had been listening to them quietly. "Are we going to war, Lord?"

"War is likely," said Elrond. "Very soon, in fact, but nay, you and I will not march to it, lest you feel some need, for our days in Middle-earth are waning. What strength we have left will be used in defense, if necessary. The responsibility for the lives of free people will fall on other shoulders." He did not look at Aragorn.

Aragorn, however, studied Elrond. "My time approaches. You need not concern yourself for me, for I will not shirk from my duty."

"No, indeed," said Elrond, looking up, surprised. "I have no fear on that account, bravery you have in abundance, and wisdom also you have learned these past years."

"What do you fear, then?"

Elrond paused. "If Sauron should regain that which was lost, then few shall have the strength to withstand his might. Soon, hopefully, we will have it in our keeping. The decision we make then will affect all of Middle-earth." He sighed. "Those that are chosen to walk this path will bear a heavy burden, perhaps unbearable for some. These are the shoulders of which I spoke. Your path will lead down a different road."

Halbarad stopped eating. "You can foresee the future?"

"Somewhat," Elrond admitted. "Although changing events cause much cloudiness in this instance. I can clearly see the path to be taken and I can foretell much of what will happen on that road, but the final outcome? That is hazier as most hearts are yet untested."

They finished the meal. "Take fresh horses, please," said Elrond. "Wake the stable master for you have been away long and will not know which ones understand Quenya and which understand Sindarin, for we have both now. If you speak Sindarin to the wrong horses they will most likely throw you."

Aragorn nodded his head seriously. Halbarad looked at Elrond, then at Aragorn, then back to Elrond again, but he made no comment.

Elrond and Arwen said goodbye to them at the kitchen door that led to the outside.

"Tir aen Eru Ilúvatar or le,"* Elrond said to Aragorn, embracing him. To Halbarad he offered his hand. "A blessing on thee, Dúnadan."

Aragorn and Arwen gazed in silence at each other. He took her hand and kissed it, being careful not to look at Elrond. He and his companion then left through the garden, down to the stables.

Elrond put his arm around his daughter and they walked silently back into the house.

When he re-entered the Hall of Healing it was quite dim, the fire having burned low. Culurien had pulled up a soft chair next to Elrohir and was curled up in it, asleep.

Elrond tended the fire, then crossed to his sleeping son and opened his eyelids with his fingers, studying them. He then sat on the arm of the chair, with his hand on Culurien's head. She stirred, looking up to greet him with a touch to his face. "Mellhîr,"*

"How does it go?"

"He sleeps peacefully.”

"As do you," Elrond said with a smile.

She made room for him in the chair and they sat with their arms around each other, dozing for the rest of the night.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

*The wanderer comes home, greetings

*Canon implies that Aragorn was not present at the attack, but I like him there, bite me.

*Not dead

*Author's note: Because I said so ;)

*May the Creator watch over thee

*Dearest Lord, or Lordly lover, whichever you want.


	23. Worries and Warfare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beautiful but spurned elf maiden Culurien, well not exactly a maiden, goes to Imladris for spiritual healing and encounters Elrond. A romantic comedy with dark undertones.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am sorry, Arwen movie fans, but she simply does not have the power to control the river. And yes, there are some aspects of the film that I have incorporated into the story. *runs, hides*

Rated: PG

The morning sun woke Elrond and he rubbed his eyes. Culurien was still asleep, her head on his shoulder. He looked over at Elrohir, who was awake, watching them.

Elrond smiled. "Welcome back from the Halls of Mandos."

Elrohir's eyes widened. "I died?"

"For a few minutes. How do you feel?"

"My shoulder aches, of course," Elrohir said, "but I cannot understand why my chest hurts so much. It is difficult to breathe."

"Ah.” Elrond smiled more widely. “I would not be surprised if you had a cracked rib or two."

His son was puzzled. "I do not remember any injury there."

"Let us just call it part of your return to the living," Elrond said mysteriously.

"If you say so, Adar." Elrohir gave him a long look. "Is Elladan here?"

"Not that I have heard." He paused. "Why were you not wearing a mail shirt? Do you have a death-wish?"

"Do not reprimand me, Adar."

"That is the privilege of my position."

"I have been taking care of myself for many years," continued Elrohir, becoming angry.

"You seem to be confusing good judgment with good luck. It is extreme folly to ride with such recklessness against the Nine. This first encounter could have easily been your last. Simple precautions are all I ask."

Elrohir began to look sulky.

"Who and what are the Nine?" Culurien asked, suddenly.

Elrond jumped. "I did not know you were awake."

"How could I not be, with you two harping at each other?" she replied. There was silence for a moment.

"The Nine are the keepers of the Rings of Power given to men," Elrond explained.

"Why did they get nine and we only got three?"

"In this instance quality has more weight and power than quantity."

"So, one keeper of an elven ring is more powerful than several of the Nine?"

"Just so." He gave her a pinch of warning to drop the subject.

She did not, however, do so entirely. "These keepers of the Nine-."

"Úlairi," said Elrond.

"Ringwraiths," she repeated, thinking. "They are no longer living?"

"That is correct," said Elrond. "They are a shapeless evil entity, existing by the will of their master alone."

"Even the least of our people possess power of a sort. Can one of us match one of them?"

"Certainly, if he or she is an elf lord of great lineage and power."

"Then why do you fear them so?"

"They are the worst and most terrible of all the servants of the Enemy. Save for Sauron, himself, there are none more evil in all of Middle-earth. When they are collected together, their strength multiplies. Very seldom will you find one alone. If they were to besiege Imladris and even if they were all nine together, our combined power could surely defeat them.

“But a single elf, out on horseback, with no mail shirt, taking on three at once? Foolhardy," finished Elrond, with his eyebrow raised at Elrohir.

Elrohir started to laugh, "Ouch!" he winced, raising a hand to his chest.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Elrond paused. He looked gravely at the faces of the elves sitting in front of him. "Now you know what has transpired thus far and you have been given your assignments. You have been chosen for your strength and your experience with the servants of Sauron. Unfortunately there are not enough of you to stay in groups, for much ground must be covered, so you will each be alone. Even should I send out a company with each of you, it would be of little use, serving only to attract the enemy like flies on dung. Your best chance lies in secrecy.

“I fear you will find the enemy waiting on our very doorstep, hoping to ambush the hobbit. Divide them; scatter them by any means necessary, although none of you is to face all Nine together." Elrond smiled grimly. "I want very much to see all of you back safe, once more. Tir aen Eru Ilúvatar or le," he said, dismissing them.

"Adar," began Arwen, who had been listening.

"No."

She looked at him, exasperated. "I am as powerful as any of them, and a better rider as well."

"You have no experience with Úlairi.”

"I do not fear them."

"You have not seen them, or you would."

Arwen remained obstinate, protesting.

"Undómiel, every one of those I sent out was present at the siege of Mt. Orodruin. They know what to expect. You do not."

She opened her mouth to speak.

"That is my final word," he said, quietly, turning and leaving the chamber.

_I am not a child._ She sat there a long time, deep in thought.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Elrond crushed the paper into a ball, his hand clenched. "When did you find this note?" he asked Culurien through gritted teeth.

"Just now, of course.”

"When did you see Arwen last?" he continued, somewhat fiercely.

She shrugged. "It has been two days, surely."

"Mandos!" Elrond scowled. "I pray to Eru that she is as good as she thinks she is."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Elrond looked up as Lindir knocked discreetly and then opened the study door.

"A new arrival, Lord," said Lindir, stepping to one side.

Elrond stood. "Mithrandir!" he exclaimed with relief, embracing him quickly. He stepped back, frowning. "Events move swiftly, where have you been?"

"All in good time, Master Elf," said Gandalf, his eyes twinkling. "Where are your manners, will you not offer a weary traveler something?"

"Forgive me," said Elrond, pouring a drink into a glass from a decanter.

"Ah, miruvor. The cordial of Imladris, how I have missed it."

Elrond waited while he drank, but not with any patience. "Well?" he asked, his arms folded in front of him.

Gandalf contemplated him for a moment, his bushy eyebrows coming together. "I suggest you maintain some semblance of restraint. I am no errant child, needing to be scolded."

Elrond lowered his arms, placing his fingertips on the desk, his head bowed. "Forgive me, Mellon-iaur,"* he said quietly. "I am beside myself with worry."

The wizard touched his shoulder. "As am I."

"Talk to me, please," whispered Elrond. Gandalf reached for his pipe. "And do not smoke that foul thing in here."

Gandalf sighed. "I take it Frodo has not arrived?"

"Nay, and obviously he is not with you."

"When I returned to Bree, he had departed already, but good news." Gandalf paused. "Aragorn is guiding him."

Elrond closed his eyes. “Thank Elbereth."

"I have seen Glorfindel and also Erestor on the road," continued Gandalf. "They have heard no sign of Aragorn and Frodo, but they have both been harassing the Enemy, keeping them busy. I, myself was attacked on Weathertop, some two weeks back."

"What of Arwen? Have you any news of her?"

"No, indeed," said Gandalf, raising his eyebrows. "You are becoming more liberal minded as you grow older."

"She is the errant child that needs scolding." Elrond frowned. "She went forth without my blessing."

"Errant, maybe," said Gandalf. "But a child? I think not."

"Hmph," snorted Elrond and fell silent.

"At any rate I saw nothing of Frodo on the road; Aragorn is wisely keeping to the woods although it is rougher going. Nazgûl, however, I did see, at least three of them, not far from the ford."

"It seems we will need to prepare a strong defense," murmured Elrond, thinking.

Gandalf was surprised. "An army?"

"Nay, that is not necessary. I will simply bar the ford* once the hobbit is across."

"Ah." Gandalf’s eyes twinkled. “Perhaps I may be of assistance in this matter?"

Elrond smiled. "By all means."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

*Old Friend

*Author's note: I am sorry, Arwen movie fans, but she simply does not have the power to control the river. And yes, there are some aspects of the film that I have incorporated into the story. *runs, hides*


	24. Cover Your Eyes, Please

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beautiful but spurned elf maiden Culurien, well not exactly a maiden, goes to Imladris for spiritual healing and encounters Elrond. A romantic comedy with dark undertones.

Rated: I'm not sure maybe PG13 for voyeurism?

 

Dinner that evening in the small dining hall was a subdued affair, the many empty places continuing to be a depressing sight.

"Lady of Imladris," Gandalf greeted Culurien, kissing her hand.

"Mithrandir," she replied, smiling shyly.

"Lovely as ever." Gandalf beamed at her, his lips lingering over her fingers.

"Enough of that," said Elrond, taking Culurien's hand from Gandalf, his eyes dancing. "I grow jealous."

Only Elrohir seemed to have any appetite, eating as if it were his last meal.

"I am better, Adar," he said between mouthfuls. "I will leave now."

"Entirely unnecessary," commented Elrond. "Those you seek will all be here shortly."

"You see it?"

"I do," said Elrond quietly.

"When?"

"Tomorrow," Elrond answered. "Tomorrow night."

Gandalf and Culurien exchanged glances.

Elrohir pressed him. "Elladan comes tomorrow?"

"Nay, he will come several days hence."

"I go to meet him then."

"You do not know the road by which he travels. You will most likely miss him," argued Elrond.

"You have had the vision," said Elrohir. "You can tell me the road can you not?"

"Perchance I look like a map?" snapped Elrond, annoyed.

Culurien put her hand on Elrohir's. "Have patience. It will not be much longer."

Elrohir went back to eating, now sulky. The meal finished silently.

Gandalf rose. "I go now to seek Bilbo. Why did he not come to dinner?"

"I know not," answered Elrond. "He is usually very punctual, seldom missing a meal, although occasionally he prefers the company of his own thoughts."

Elrohir scraped his chair back and departed, saying nothing.

Elrond's eyes followed him sadly. "Would that he was past this reckless stage."

"Mellhîr.” Culurien’s finger lightly caressed the back of Elrond's hand.

"Mmm," he responded absently, still looking after his wayward son.

"You seem much too tense.” She smiled at him coyly. “Perhaps I can remedy that."

"Mmm," he said again, his eyes vacant, his mind far away.

_Dratted visions,_ she thought and waited, watching him. The dining hall emptied, and still he sat, unblinking.

Culurien leaned close and whispered. "I love you."

Elrond jumped a little. "What was that?"

"I-love-you," she repeated, her breath hot against his ear.

He felt his flesh starting to tingle. He looked around. There was no one there but the two of them.

Culurien lifted his hand to her mouth, her tongue lightly caressing each finger. He watched, fascinated, the heat building rapidly through his loins.

"It seems a good night to retire early," she whispered in his ear.

Elrond nodded in wholehearted agreement. "It would seem so."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Gandalf left Bilbo's room after a brief visit. The old hobbit seemed too sleepy to chat much tonight, although his delight in seeing his old friend was evident. Gandalf recollected something he needed to speak to Elrond about, and headed towards his chamber.

He was admitted by Lindir, who bid him to wait, as his master was not yet returned from dinner.

Gandalf sat on the terrace, watching the stars come out. He was deep in thought and he missed the comfort of his pipe, which he dared not light, fearing the wrath of his host.

He dozed a while before he heard a noise from the inner room and came out of his reverie with a start. _Ah,_ he thought, _returned at last._

He stood and walked in from the terrace. He heard the noise again. It was definitely a giggle. He froze, still concealed in the shadows.

There were two people on the armless sofa near the fire. The light was too dim to see their faces. One was lying prone, with the other on top of him, straddling his waist.

They were sighing with pleasure as they moved against each other, exchanging soft caresses, hungry kisses, in their own world, oblivious to all else but their consuming desire.

_How wonderful to be in love and so happy,_ Gandalf thought, _I am so pleased that Elrond has found true contentment at last._ He watched them absently for a while.

His thoughts came back to the present with a jerk. He turned hastily away and stepped backwards. "Ahem," he said rather loudly.

He heard an oath and a crash and the sound of something heavy falling.

"Who is there?" asked Elrond evenly from the darkness.

"Only I," replied Gandalf reluctantly. He heard another oath and fumbling sounds.

Elrond held a candle into the fire, lighting it. He spoke to someone Gandalf could not see, on the floor between the couch and the fire.

"Are you all right?"

"Yes," Culurien whispered, arranging her clothing.

"Stay right here."

"May I get up off the floor?"

He nodded seriously. "By all means."

Elrond stood with his back to Gandalf and rapidly fastened buttons. He approached the wizard, leading him out to the terrace. "This had better be good," he said threateningly.

Gandalf gave him a genial smile. "I was merely waiting for you."

Elrond gave him a dark look. "You could not have made your presence known sooner?"

"I must have been dozing," said Gandalf, cheerfully.

"Mithrandir." Elrond clenched his teeth. "My patience with you grows thin."

"Ah, yes," sighed Gandalf. "To the point. Actually it was not that important, I only thought to catch you before you retired, it can wait, after all."

Elrond stared at him, at a loss for words. Suddenly, he laughed. "It has obviously been driven clean out of your mind." He laid his hand on Gandalf's shoulder. "Pleasant dreams," he said with a smirk, escorting the wizard out of the room.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 


	25. The Ford of Bruinen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beautiful but spurned elf maiden Culurien, well not exactly a maiden, goes to Imladris for spiritual healing and encounters Elrond. A romantic comedy with dark undertones.

Rated: PG

 

 

Elrond spent most of the next day standing on the high bank at the ford of the river Bruinen. The river was quiet, the ford shallow, as it always was in October, the melting snow from the mountains diminishing as the warm season wore on.

Elrohir joined him at one point. "What are you doing, Adar?"

"Waiting," said Elrond simply.

"Do you see Elladan?"

"Nay," said Elrond, his eyes softening as he looked at his son. "Do not fret, he is coming. Other concerns take priority, however."

Elrohir was silent. Finally he mumbled, “I apologize for my behavior last night at dinner."

Elrond smiled. "I understand it. We need speak no more of it unless you wish."

"Nay," returned Elrohir. "I have no defense to put forth, it was inexcusable. I will wait, as you suggest."

He put his hand on his father's shoulder for a moment, and then he went to mount his horse.

Elrond turned his eyes away from his son and looked steadily across the Bruinen once more.

It was late afternoon, turning to twilight when Gandalf rode up and Culurien was with him, behind the saddle. Elrond had in the meantime moved to higher ground. Other residents of Imladris had been gathering, the crowd growing steadily, throughout the afternoon.

Culurien handed Elrond a flask and some bread. "Thank you," he said absently. "What are you doing here? It was my wish you make ready the Hall of Healing."

"All is ready," said Culurien. "I want to see what you mean to do." Her voice lowered. "Also, I wish to see the Nine."

"You will get that wish very shortly," Elrond remarked between bites.

As they waited, the sky grew grey. Suddenly, a cold wind rustled through the trees, carrying an eerie high-pitched whine to their ears.

There was a great commotion on the opposite bank and they could hear approaching hoof-beats.

"There is Arwen," Elrond whispered.

They watched in stunned silence as the elf-maiden’s horse broke through the trees and entered the river. She had what appeared to be a sack lying across the front of her saddle.

"Frodo," said Gandalf quietly.

"There you are, look." Elrond clutched her arm and pointed, as the black figures emerged from the woods. The Witch King of Angmar was the first to enter the shallow water. Arwen had nearly reached the opposite bank when she turned and brandished a sword.

"What is she doing?" asked Culurien, horrified. Most of the black riders were in the river now.

"Arwen, get out of the way," whispered Elrond through clenched teeth. He held his hand aloft and a wondrous light shone from it. "Nîn o chithaeglir," he exclaimed, his clear elven voice ringing out with great intensity. "Lasto beth daer." His eyes closed. "Rimmo nîn Bruinen dan in ulaer!"*

There was a roaring and rushing noise. Gandalf turned toward it, his staff held high. On the far bank they could see a figure with his hands up as well, radiating a white glow, effectively keeping the panicking black horses in the deepening river.

"Glorfindel?" Culurien whispered, unbelieving.

At that moment a tremendous wall of water came crashing out of the mountains. The elf-horse reared and climbed the steep bank hastily.

It looked as though the river had become white riders on white horses, galloping frantically. They crashed down into the black figures, overwhelming them.

Elrond stood with his eyes still shut, his hand outstretched, his lips moving silently, as the flood roared past them.

Gandalf took him by the shoulder and shook him gently. "Well done, my friend. It is over, they are finished."

Elrond opened his eyes as if coming out of a trance.

Arwen had dismounted and was kneeling on the steep bank, clutching the sack she had transported. Elrond ran quickly down to her, followed by many others.

"Lasto beth nin, tolo dan na ngalad,"* she whispered.

Elrond approached with fear in his heart. "What is it?"

"Ada." She looked up, tears in her eyes. "He has passed over."

Elrond leaned over the hobbit as Arwen laid him on the ground. He placed both hands on Frodo's head and looked deeply into his eyes.

"Lasto beth nin, tolo dan na ngalad," he repeated with intensity. Frodo breathed easier and some color came back to his face.

"I said that!" exclaimed Arwen, annoyed. "Why did it not work for me?"

Elrond sat back on his heels and looked at his daughter. "Perhaps the measure of grace one is allowed relates directly to the measure of one's respect one has for one's father's wishes," he said meaningfully with raised eyebrows. His gaze softened and he gave her a small smile. "It also might have helped to pay more attention to your studies." He picked up the hobbit gently and walked away.

Arwen stood on the river bank and watched the water subside. Glorfindel and Aragorn crossed the ford on horseback with the remaining hobbits. "Gandalf, Gandalf," they cried, spotting him.

Aragorn dismounted. "Estel," Arwen whispered as he took her in his arms.

"Well done, Arwen, well done." He kissed her warmly.

Gandalf greeted the hobbits, clapping them on their backs. "Welcome to Rivendell."

"Where is Frodo?" they clamored as one.

"You shall see him," Gandalf answered. "All in good time."

He led them through the valley to the Last Homely House. By the time that they reached the Hall of Healing, they were subdued and overwhelmed by the great house of Elrond.

The master of the house and his lady were bent over the prone figure of Frodo on a table. They raised their eyes and straightened up as the newcomers arrived.

Elrond looked at Aragorn questioningly.

"Morgul sword," he answered, producing the hilt.

Elrond sighed. "Not again. How long has it been?"

Aragorn calculated. "Seventeen days."

Elrond looked at him in amazement. "A wonder he still lives."

Sam was at Frodo's side, instantly. "Mr. Frodo, Mr. Frodo."

Elrond looked at him, then at Merry and Pippin as if noticing them for the first time. "Greetings, masters Periannath.* Welcome to Rivendell."

Sam gazed up in wonder at the tall elf lord, of whom Bilbo had spoken, many times. "Will my master be all right?"

"That is a goal toward which I shall put forth my entire strength," answered Elrond gravely. "Meanwhile, you must be weary; we shall find chambers for you."

"We want to stay with Frodo," said Merry, bravely. Elrond turned to regard him. "Please," whispered Merry, shrinking visibly.

"So do we," said Sam and Pippin, somewhat less bravely.

"Very well," said Elrond, his eyebrow lifting, a small smile playing across his lips. "I must warn you; however, this procedure is not for the squeamish." Arwen left abruptly. "You must stand back, please," Elrond continued, picking up a sharp knife.

Culurien took off Frodo's vest and shirt.

"Seventeen days," Elrond muttered. "It will perhaps be better if we work a small area at a time over several days, lest he lose too much blood."

He positioned the knife and reopened the wound. "Put pressure, Linariel, here and here," he instructed. He picked up a pitcher of liquid and cleansed the wound, washing the blood away.

He looked up. "Estel," he said to Aragorn. "Assist please. Take Culurien's place. You wash," he explained, giving her the pitcher. "I need both hands."

He searched the incision, pulling out small threads. He glanced up at his foster son. "Did you not clean this at the time?"

"You know me better than to ask that," Aragorn replied testily. "It was dark; we were being chased by Nazgûl. I may have missed something."

Elrond grunted. He took his hand out of the wound and washed the blood off in a nearby basin.

Pippin promptly fainted. Merry put his hand over his mouth and tried desperately to swallow. Sam, who sat nearer, watched in shocked silence, no color left in his face. "What are you doing, Master?"

Elrond looked over at him. "A morgul sword breaks off inside the victim." He turned to Aragorn. "Did you see the blade, Estel?"

"Yes," said Aragorn, "it was notched. I found a piece myself when I cleaned the wound, but there is obviously more in there."

"Obviously," agreed Elrond. He turned back to Sam. "The piece that is left inside will continue to work its way inward, toward the heart."

Sam turned even paler if possible. Elrond resumed his search of the wound, lengthening it with the knife.

"What happens then?" Sam whispered softly.

"Once it pierces the heart, the victim becomes a wraith, such as them, only weaker," Elrond said grimly. "Wash, Linariel, please."

Frodo stirred, moaning.

Elrond shook his head. "Now is not a good time to wake, Frodo Baggins."

Culurien took a jar from the shelf and applied some of the contents to a small cloth. She held it over the hobbit's nose and mouth until he lay quiet again.

Elrond looked with concern at Aragorn’s tired face. "How goes it, Estel?"

"I am fine, have no care for me."

Elrond probed the wound for another ten minutes or so. "That is enough for one day." He stood with a sigh and washed his hands.

Culurien took the pitcher and cleaned the incision thoroughly as Elrond prepared to do the stitching.

"I will do that, Mellhîr," she whispered in his ear. He looked up at her and their eyes locked together.

"Inyë mel le," he whispered in Quenya.

"Im ista," she replied with a smile in Sindarin.*

Gandalf smirked at them. "Come hobbits," he said, standing. "What, Peregrin asleep already?"

Elrond opened another jar and held it under Pippin's nose. The hobbit came to life immediately, coughing and opening his eyes.

"Mithrandir," said Elrond. "I would speak with you. Estel." He turned to him. "Please find chambers for our guests."

Aragorn inclined his head. He gestured to the hobbits and led them out of the room.

Elrond stepped towards Gandalf. "Where is it?"

The wizard shrugged. "Vest pocket, I imagine."

"You look."

"Not I," returned Gandalf.

"Culurien," said Elrond. She stopped what she was doing and looked at him, waiting. "We would like to ascertain that the hobbit still has the One Ring in his possession. Would you search his clothing please?"

She was nonplussed. "Why do you need me? Are you not capable of identifying a golden ring?"

Elrond became more serious. "As a ringbearer, I fear to touch it. It would be more deadly to me than morgul blades, I think."

"And you, Mithrandir." She turned to him. "What is your fear?"

Gandalf looked at Elrond. "The same, I'm sorry to say.”

She stared at him in amazement. "You hold an elven ring?"

"Indeed I do."

It was Culurien's turn to look at Elrond. "He is not an elf," she said unnecessarily.

"No indeed," said Elrond. "It is actually Círdan's ring. Mithrandir is borrowing it."

Her jaw dropped even more. "You pass them around?"

Gandalf and Elrond exchanged embarrassed looks. "Nay, of course not," said Elrond. "This was an unusual circumstance."

"Fine," she sighed, picking up Frodo's jacket. She felt through all the pockets, making a face once or twice. _What is this in here?_ she thought, bringing out her hand. "Ugh.” She went to wash her fingers.

Elrond sighed and rolled his eyes.

"I am looking, do not rush me."

"Try the vest," said Gandalf, helpfully.

She picked up the garment and felt the pockets. Reaching in one, her face changed as she pulled out the beautiful, glittering, golden ring. She laid it on the table and they all stared at it.

Suddenly Elrond winced and put his hands over his ears.

"What is it?" Culurien asked, concerned.

"I hear a voice, coming from it, pounding into my head.” He looked at Gandalf. “Do you hear it?"

"Yes," Gandalf replied calmly.

Elrond's eyes turned back to the Ring. He lowered his hands, slowly. "That is better, it quiets down.” His lips curved in a small smile. “I doubt that it likes being here."

Culurien turned back to Frodo and finished dressing the wound. Elrond pulled out a cabinet drawer and found a length of chain. He picked up the Ring with tweezers and slipped the chain through it. "Here." He offered it to Gandalf.

The Istar held out his hands, palms outwards. "Nay, master elf. I will not take that thing."

"Just put it back in the pocket," sighed Culurien. "You only wished to know if it was still there, did you not?"

Elrond smiled. "You are correct, Linariel, as usual." He followed her suggestion. "We will need to have a council to discuss this matter," he said to Gandalf. "Messengers have been sent out already, in anticipation." Elrond looked very grave. "The Doom of Middle-earth . . .”

"Yes, yes," said Gandalf hastily. "I totally agree, but please, dinner first, council later. I am famished."

Elrond paused in astonishment, his mouth still open. Culurien hid a smile with her hand.

"By all means," he said, finally. "The bell should be sounding shortly."

He picked Frodo up from the table and laid him in a nearby bed, pulling a blanket up over him.

Culurien assisted him. "Shall I stay and watch?"

"Nay, he should be fine for a while," said Elrond, pulling her hand through his arm.

They walked in silence to his chamber. Once inside, she turned towards him, touching his face.

His arms went around her and he sighed. "It has been a long day."

"Indeed," she agreed, caressing his ear lightly.

She pulled his head down to her and began kissing him, her lips soft, gently exploring, her breath warm as her hands disappeared beneath his garments.

"Stay, a moment," he whispered. He raised his head and looked around the room. "Is anybody in here?"

Elrohir came in from the terrace. "Oh, there you are, Adar, at last."

Elrond and Culurien looked at each other and started shaking with silent laughter.

"I shall have to start using the lock on the door in the future," he said under his breath.

"What is so amusing?" asked Elrohir, which only made them laugh harder.

Elrond recovered himself finally. "Did you wish to see me?"

"Yes Adar, there are some questions I would like to have answered."

"Come, speak to me as I change," Elrond said as he walked to his dressing room.

Culurien could only smile and sigh.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

*From the movie, of course. 'Waters of the Misty Mountains listen to the great word; flow waters of Loudwater against the Ringwraiths!'

*'Frodo, hear my voice, come back to [the] light.'

*Halflings

*I love you (thee) _Q_

I know. _S_


	26. Healing and Silliness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beautiful but spurned elf maiden Culurien, well not exactly a maiden, goes to Imladris for spiritual healing and encounters Elrond. A romantic comedy with dark undertones.

Imladris Revisited  
By: DLR 2002  
Disclaimer: Characters (most of them) owned by Tolkien estate  
Elrond/OFC  
Rated: R, sexual situations

Chapter 26

Despite Frodo's continued illness, the dining hall was a much more cheerful place than it had been the previous evening.

Elrond spotted Glorfindel and crossed the room to embrace him. Glorfindel smiled brightly.

"Excellent team work," remarked Elrond, smiling back.

"Thank you," responded Glorfindel happily. "I am pleased to have been of assistance."

"What did you think of my white riders?" Gandalf asked, coming up.

"What white riders?" queried Elrond, surprised.

"The spell I put on the flood," Gandalf prompted. "We discussed this yesterday, do you not recall?"

Glorfindel and Elrond looked at each other for a moment.

"I saw black riders," began Glorfindel.

"I may have had my eyes closed," said Elrond.

"You did not see them?" demanded Gandalf, incredulous.

"I was looking at the Nazgûl, not the flood," explained Glorfindel. He looked at the wizard with narrowed eyes. "Are you certain that they were there?"

Gandalf regarded both of them darkly. "Harumph," he snorted.

"I actually did have my eyes closed," said Elrond innocently. "It was necessary to concentrate."

"I saw them, Mithrandir," said Culurien, who felt this had gone far enough. "They were magnificent."

"Thank you, Lady, thank you," he said, cheering up only a little.

Elrond and Glorfindel indulged in this ‘wizard baiting' game much too often, she thought. Glorfindel, especially, could play the wide-eyed innocent to perfection. He was doing so now, and she caught him giving Elrond a wink.

Elrond turned away from Gandalf, hiding a small smile. Behind him the hobbits were seated at a table, waiting for dinner. With them was Bilbo, who rose as Elrond approached.

"Everyone feeling better?" inquired Elrond. "Partake of some wine, please," he offered, his eyes twinkling. "The red is excellent." Culurien pinched him.

Bilbo laid his hand on Elrond's arm. "How is Frodo?" he asked earnestly. "May I see him?"

"He is resting comfortably for the moment, regaining his strength against the ordeal still before him," said Elrond. "Certainly you may see him, any time you wish." He put his hand on Bilbo's shoulder. "If he is as stalwart as his uncle, he will be fine." Bilbo gave him a shaky smile.

Elrond moved on, greeting new arrivals, thanking people for their efforts. The relief he was experiencing with the end of the day's events was enormous after what seemed like months, nay even years of endless worry.

One hurdle overcome, he thought. Try not to worry about the next step.

"I am a little afraid of this mood you are in," whispered Culurien as they sat down.

"Mood? What mood?" asked Elrond, his eyes wide.

"You do not often show this side in public," she continued.

"Which side would that be?" he returned, his eyes dancing with amusement.

"Do not play the innocent with me," she smiled. "You are aware of what I speak."

He looked at her, his eyes questioning.

"You are being far too playful," Culurien said. "You will find yourself in trouble eventually."

"I am Lord of Imladris," Elrond said with a grin. "Who is there to chastise me?"

"I am Lady of Imladris," she responded. "I will."

He raised an eyebrow at her. "And how, exactly, do you plan on reprimanding me?" he asked, smirking.

"This is what I mean," she whispered. "Hush yourself."

"For the moment," he said. "But later I insist on knowing your method."

"Shh," Culurien said, reddening. "It is lucky there is no one to overhear."

He smiled wickedly and leaning over, whispered in her ear. She reddened even further, if possible. Thank Eru, Elladan was not here, she thought, for she would not even be able to look at him.

"I can see you are going to have to go to bed early," she admonished, trying to frown.

"Yes, madam, I certainly hope so," he said, totally failing to look contrite.

Culurien sighed, defeated.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

The fire burned low, the room seemed empty. "Lindir," Elrond called. There was silence.

"Is anybody here?" he asked, loudly. They waited. Nothing.

"Search," said Culurien. They checked all the rooms, the terrace and the garden. No one. "Lock the door," Culurien instructed. Elrond did so. Culurien opened a cupboard. Elrond raised his eyebrows.

"Hobbits are small," said she. They looked at each other, laughing.

"Now you can see why I need to leave from time to time in order to find solitude," he murmured, his face in her hair.

"Next time you leave," she whispered, holding him tightly, "I go with you."

"Agreed," he said, his voice becoming husky.

"Why on Eä do you have to wear all these layers?" she asked with impatience.

"Perhaps I should set a new fashion trend," he considered, kissing her neck hungrily. "What do you suggest?"

"Naked is fine with me," she answered, her breath becoming labored.

He laughed. "That would sit well with those at Morning Council. Do you think it would add to my authority?"

"I, for one, would hang on your every word," she whispered, pressing her breasts against his bare chest.

There was a long silence as they communicated physically rather than verbally.

"It feels as though it has been an age," she murmured as he laid her down on the bed.

"It has," he whispered hoarsely, as he parted her legs. He kissed the soft skin of her inner thighs, his arousal matching hers, as her excitement escalated.

"Oh, Mellhîr," she gasped as her body began to shudder. He held her tightly as her hips convulsed, her breathing shallow as she writhed with pleasure.

He lay for a long time after with his head on her stomach. She stroked his hair. "Well?" she finally asked.

"I am sorry," he said, sighing, "but that was too much for me."

"You mean . . . ?" she asked, surprised. "I am afraid so," he answered.

"There is a remedy for that," she remarked, changing positions.

He froze. "You are aware of how that causes me discomfort," he said, looking indeed uneasy.

"I know, so you have said," she replied, gently pushing him back onto the pillows, caressing him.

Culurien looked deeply into Elrond's eyes. "It is time I made you forget about Gil-galad."

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

It had been four days now, and still Elrond had not been able to locate the shard of metal that remained in Frodo's wound.

The hobbit grew weaker with each passing day, Elrond's will having less effect as the evil moved closer to Frodo's heart.

Gandalf, in fact, had given up, though he spoke of this to no one. Elrond, however, was far from conceding, as he fought for Frodo's life with every ounce of skill he possessed.

This last day, the session stretched into hours as everyone realized it was now or never.

Culurien wiped the sweat off of Elrond's brow as he worked, his face reflecting the intensity of his determination. The room was silent.

Suddenly, Elrond froze. "Ennas ha dolen,"* he said, quietly. He slowly reached into the wound with the tweezers. The piece of metal he pulled out was no bigger than a splinter.

Culurien looked at him. "Do you think there are any more in there like that?" she asked.

Elrond stared at her, unblinking. "No," he said, firmly.

"How do you know?" she responded.

"No," he said again. "But how do you . . . ?" she continued.

"No," he insisted, shaking his head emphatically.

"Fine," she sighed, defeated once again.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Elrond sat with Frodo all night, watching over him. They had moved the hobbit to a bedchamber and from time to time the other hobbits came in and waited with him.

Elrond breathed a sigh of relief as Frodo steadily improved. Near dawn, Gandalf made an appearance.

"I will sit," he said. "Go, get some rest, you need it."

Elrond looked at him with bloodshot eyes. "For once, I will take Mithrandir's advice," he conceded, rising.

He made his way to his chamber, where Culurien was still in bed, sleeping. Elrond undressed and laid his body close to her warmth. He knew no more for a long while.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Elrond awoke with a start. What time was it? He got out of bed and looked at the sun, nine o'clock, maybe. Culurien was gone.

He washed and dressed quickly and hurried from the room, his first thoughts for the hobbit. At Frodo's door he stopped and composed himself, taking a deep breath. He turned the knob and entered.

Gandalf was still in the chair, dozing. Elrond crossed the room to Frodo. The hobbit had continued to improve, he noted with relief.

Gandalf stirred and looked up at the tall elf . "Has he regained consciousness at all?" Elrond asked

"Nay," said Gandalf, "not yet." Elrond opened Frodo's eyelids and gauged his reactions to the light. He laid his head on Frodo's chest, listening. He straightened up, satisfied.

"That was touch and go," said Gandalf.

"He is out of danger now," said Elrond. "He will be fine."

Gandalf put his hand on Elrond's arm. "I do not know how to thank you. Frodo is like a son to me," he said, his eyes glistening.

Elrond looked at him for a moment. "If all the skills I have learned in six thousand years have been acquired only to save this one life, it will have been worth it," he said gravely. They gazed at each other a minute longer.

There was a soft knock on the door and Glorfindel looked in. "Could I speak with you?" he asked. "Yes, certainly," Elrond replied and stepped out into the hallway.

They conversed about the business of Imladris for a few minutes. Sam came running down the hallway and scurried around the two tall elf lords who were standing in front of the door.

"What was that?" asked Glorfindel, pausing.

"What was what?" responded Elrond.

"I thought I saw something, out of the corner of my eye," continued Glorfindel.

"I saw nothing," said Elrond, mystified.

They continued to talk, making plans for the upcoming feast. Glorfindel paused and laid his hand on Elrond's arm.

"You look terrible," he remarked. "You should get some rest."

"I have rested," confessed Elrond, dismayed. "I still look bad?"

"I should say so," continued Glorfindel, tactlessly.

"Well, compared to you, maybe," said Elrond. "Even on the field of battle, you never had a hair out of place."

"I take pride in my appearance," Glorfindel began.

"Vanity, I would call it," interrupted Elrond.

"Simple cleanliness," argued Glorfindel.

"There is nothing simple about it," said Elrond. "I am clean, you are more like . . . pristine." There was a pause.

"That is a good word, I like it," decided Glorfindel. "Yes, I am Pristine."

Elrond sighed. "How do I get into these discussions with you? Pristine, indeed."

He turned the knob and entered Frodo's room silently. The hobbit was awake, talking to Gandalf, Sam at his side.

Elrond stood and listened to them a moment, his presence unnoticed, then Gandalf turned and indicated him to Frodo.

Elrond greeted him and put his hand on the hobbit's head, looking into his eyes. He said some words of healing in Quenya and Frodo, gazing at him, spoke back a few words in the ancient tongue.

Elrond stepped back, startled, then he raised an eyebrow and looked at Gandalf.

"I see I must watch what I say around this one," he said, smiling. Frodo grinned happily.

"Well, Frodo Baggins," said Elrond, "you have had quite an ordeal. How do you feel?"

"Tired, but well," answered Frodo. "Much warmer, I was so cold."

Elrond reached his hand out to open Frodo's shirt and looked at the wound. It seemed very clean and healthy, healing quickly. "Is it painful?" he asked. "Only a little stiff," said Frodo.

He stared at the ring on Elrond's finger with comprehension. Elrond noted the direction of his gaze and smiled. "You see correctly," he said. "But you will speak of it not."

Frodo shook his head in agreement, not speaking of it immediately.

"Well then, you may get out of bed whenever you feel strong enough," advised Elrond with an amused look at the wizard.

"I am strong enough now," said Frodo. "Hobbits are very resilient," put in Gandalf.

"I should say so," agreed Elrond. "Elrohir did not get up for a week." He turned back to Frodo. "I am very pleased at your recovery, Frodo Baggins," he said with a smile.

Frodo looked up at him. "Thank you for saving my life," he whispered.

"You are welcome," responded Elrond as he left the room.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

*There it (is) concealed.

 

 

 

Imladris Revisited  
By: DLR 2002  
Disclaimer: *sigh*  
Elrond/Glorfindel(?)*smirk*  
Rated:ES for extreme silliness

Alternate Chapter 26 (A different Victory of the Ford of Bruinen celebration)

Elrond: *comes into dining hall, sees Glorfindel, they high-five* WE RULE!!

Glorfindel:*snickering* You are too smooth, Babe, you rock, totally!

Elrond: *punching fist in air* Whoo hoo! Go Me!!

Glorfindel:*smirks* Bye-bye Nazgûl, you are so out of here!!

Elrond: *agreeing* Last year's news!

Glorfindel: Too sweet! I looked like a Goddess, don't you think, all white and shiny and glowy!

Elrond: You mean God.

Glorfindel: I know what I mean.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


	27. Celebrations and Concerns

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beautiful but spurned elf maiden Culurien, well not exactly a maiden, goes to Imladris for spiritual healing and encounters Elrond. A romantic comedy with dark undertones.

Imladris Revisited  
By: DLR 2002  
Disclaimer: They're his characters, he can keep 'em.  
Elrond/OFC  
Rated: PG

Chapter 27

"Imprisoned?" asked Elrond, startled. "How do you mean, imprisoned?"

"Exactly that," continued Gandalf.

"Why, then?" demanded Elrond with impatience.

"For refusing to join forces," said Gandalf.

"But . . . but . . ." started Elrond.

"For refusing to join forces in Evil," elaborated Gandalf.

"Mithrandir," said Elrond, irritated. "You will stop speaking in riddles."

Gandalf sighed. "Saruman wants the Ring for himself. He has a palantir and it became obvious he is under the control of Sauron, who must have one as well. All of our previous confidences in Saruman are now known by the Enemy."

There was a pause as Elrond digested this news. "We should have seen this coming, we suspected as much, years ago at the last council meeting. Now matters are worse."

He stared over the edge of the balcony, looking at Frodo and Sam in the courtyard below.

"His strength returns," he observed.

"The wound will never completely heal," said Gandalf.

Elrond's lips tightened. "Yet to have come so far, still bearing the Ring, the hobbit has shown remarkable resilience to its evil," he concluded.

"It is a burden he should never have had to bear," said Gandalf. "We can ask no more of Frodo."*

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Frodo looked up from where he stood in the courtyard. He could see Gandalf and Elrond conversing on an upper balcony. They are probably talking about me, he thought, and all the mistakes I have made so far.

Sam was going through his pack, checking his possessions. Frodo knew he wanted to go home again, back to the Shire, as did Frodo himself.

Back to the quiet life he knew before he ever had heard of the Enemy and Black Riders.

He had no wish for any more adventures.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"When will you have this council?" Gandalf asked Elrond.

"Do you wish to attend, Mithrandir?" Elrond asked, his eyebrows raised. "I thought it did not interest you."

Gandalf ignored the sarcasm and waited.

"Tomorrow at ten o'clock," said Elrond. "We have had several more visitors arrive the last two days. There are ample representatives of all peoples to have at least a general discussion. I hope for a decision to be made, for the Enemy will not wait while we bicker and argue."

He considered a moment. "Perhaps if I just tell everyone what has to be done, do you think they will listen to me?" he asked, smiling slightly.

Gandalf smiled as well. "Give a representative council direct orders? I suppose it would not hurt to try. Isildur did not listen to you, though, why should they?"

"Why indeed," said Elrond. "Of course with Isildur I merely said to him "throw the Ring in there," I did not give him any pressing arguments. The edge of the Crack of Doom is not a good place for a debate."

"I am sure you will get the point across," smiled Gandalf.

"Yes," said Elrond, "I will try to prepare a very forceful and convincing speech. I can count on you, can I not, for support?"

Gandalf laid his hand on Elrond's shoulder. "As always, my friend, as always."

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

The feast was over and Elrond escorted Arwen into the Hall of Fire. Culurien had not been present at the meal, she and the musicians had been preparing something special for their guests. And it had gone very well, she thought, Elrond, especially, seemed to enjoy himself.

She was glad when it was finished, however, she felt uncomfortable with all those strangers staring at her, mesmerized, while she sang.

As if I had three heads, she thought. The little hobbit, Frodo, seemed particularly entranced. He did not remember her from his illness, for he had been unconscious all of his time in the hall of healing.

Bilbo was preparing to sing a song he had been working on when she pulled him aside.

"Bilbo," she whispered. "Why does your nephew stare at me so?"

"He is not," Bilbo replied. "Look, he is sleeping."

Culurien rolled her eyes. "Obviously not now," she said. "Before."

Bilbo looked at her in surprise. "You are lovely," he said. "Does there need to be another reason?"

"It is uncomfortable to be stared at so," she said.

"Would you have me speak to him?" Bilbo asked.

"Eru Menelesse, no," she exclaimed. "I would not want to embarrass him."

"I am sure it is nothing more than that," said Bilbo. "Have you been introduced?"

"Nay, not yet," Culurien answered.

"Once he knows who you are, I am sure it will cease," said Bilbo soothingly.

Culurien looked at him skeptically and proceeded to sit next to Elrond.

Bilbo joined Frodo once his song had finished. The young hobbit was now fully awake.

"That went better than I expected," Bilbo said.

"You did not think they would like it?" asked Frodo. "Why not?"

"It was implied to me that hobbits should not have the cheek to be making songs about Eärendil in the house of Elrond," he said drily.

"Was Lord Elrond offended?" asked Frodo.

"I know not," replied Bilbo, "but at least he wasn't scowling at me, that is always a good sign."

They chatted for a few minutes, then decided to go off for some private talk.

"But first," Bilbo said, "there is someone you should meet."

He took Frodo up to Elrond and Culurien. He cleared his throat.

"I should like to introduce my nephew Frodo Baggins to Culurien, Lady of Rivendell," he said.

Frodo's eyes widened, for she was the very bewitching looking elven female who had been singing earlier.

She smiled at him, her green eyes were hypnotic. "It is nice to meet you, Frodo Baggins," she said slowly. Frodo said something in return, he had no clue as to what.

Elrond's eyebrows lifted and he looked around at them, his gaze finally resting on Bilbo, who wilted visibly.

"Yes," said Bilbo. "Well, Frodo, my lad, come along."

"What was all of that about?" Elrond murmured, when they had left.

"I know not," said Culurien innocently. "I merely mentioned to Bilbo that we had not been introduced."

"Ah," said Elrond. "I see."

Elladan had finally arrived much to Elrohir's relief. He had never felt comfortable being parted from his twin for long periods.

They were standing behind Elrond's chair, talking to Aragorn, who stood behind Arwen.

"I do not know what is wrong with me tonight," Culurien whispered to Arwen. "I feel as if I am sitting here in my shift."

"I feel the same," said Arwen. "Tis all these mortals, they stare at one so."

"Yes, it is very disconcerting," agreed Culurien. "Why do they stare at us?"

Aragorn leaned forward. "They are in awe of your extreme beauty, ladies," he said.

Culurien snorted. "Arwen, yes, but not I," she said. "I am not beautiful enough to deserve such looks."  
"You think too little of yourself, Lady," Aragorn said. "I am sure Master Elrond would disagree with you."

"Indeed yes," Elrond said. "I am quite sure you deserve any strange looks you receive."

Culurien gave him a dark look. "You are not being very helpful."

He glanced at her, his eyes softening. "I am sorry you are uncomfortable, Linariel. Is this what that whole issue with Frodo Baggins was about?"

"Somewhat," she admitted, "but he is not the only one."

Culurien did not like the stares some of the men were giving her. She was not worried about hobbits, but tall, powerful men were something different.

Elrond looked at her face and grew serious. "Tell me who it is," he said quietly.

"No one in particular, there are several," she sighed. "Do not worry, I will apprize you if anyone approaches me."

Elrond felt his stomach tighten. This was indeed something to worry about. It was not as though Culurien was protected by the bonds of marriage. Still, a person would have to be insane to have designs on the betrothed of the Lord of Imladris.

"I think there will be no more singing from you for a while," Elrond decided.

"I agree, totally," said Culurien.

"Do not walk about alone, take a maid with you," continued Elrond. "Especially outside."

Culurien looked at him. "I do not think it is as bad as all that."

"Well, you will be the best judge of that," he responded. "Err on the side of caution, please," he added. "There are many strangers in the house at this time."

Arwen had been listening to all of this, her eyes wide. "What are you afraid of Ada?" she asked.

"You as well, Arwen," Elrond said. "Let me know about any problems you might have with any of our guests. Take one of your maids with you around the house and grounds. Do not be alone."

"I have never been allowed to walk the grounds alone," Arwen said with a glint in her eye.

"It is not as though you have ever followed that rule," chided Elrond. "Why make it a rule if you do not care if I follow it?" she asked.

Elrond sighed. "Undómiel, I care, it is you that cares not." Arwen was silent.

"Listen to your father, Arwen," said Aragorn with a small smile. She smiled back at him.

"I do not think I have anything to worry about, not with so many protectors," she said, looking at Aragorn and her brothers.

Elrond smiled at his daughter, then looked around the hall. The light was somewhat dim, but many people did seem to be staring in their direction. Hard to tell though, at whom the stares were directed.  
Well, it is to be expected, Elrond mused. Most mortals behaved in that manner, their first encounter with the Eldar. Arwen and Culurien did not have much experience of them yet, they would become used to it eventually.

These last seventy years or so, since their arrival from Lothlórien, there had been few mortals here. Most travelers were elves, on their way to the havens, or Istari, like Gandalf and Radagast.

Where was Mithrandir? Elrond thought, looking for him. He would voice his concern for Culurien and Gandalf could help, for he was very observant. He would soon find out what was happening, if anything.

He sighed, thinking about the Council tomorrow, rehearsing a speech in his mind

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  


*Yes, directly from the film, I know. ;)

 

 

 


	28. Councils and Cousins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beautiful but spurned elf maiden Culurien, well not exactly a maiden, goes to Imladris for spiritual healing and encounters Elrond. A romantic comedy with dark undertones.

Imladris Revisited  
By: DLR 2002  
Disclaimer: Did you know that Christopher Tolkien took out another copyright on the characters in 1977? Now we wait 100 years from then. Grrr.  
Elrond/what’s-her-name  
Rated: PG

Chapter 28

Elrond put his head in his hands, his elbows on his knees. The noise level increased, as everyone tried to out-shout each other.

_My efforts were not good enough,_ he thought, looking at Gandalf, who rolled his eyes.

Soon this whole Council would degenerate into a full-fledged elf/dwarf war. He had better do something, quickly.

Even Glorfindel, who rarely lost his composure, was red-faced, yelling at one of the dwarves.

For future Council meetings, Elrond made a mental note, _all weapons would be left outside the door._ He had been somewhat unnerved when the dwarf Gimli had so forcefully swung his axe at the Ring on the table.

He might pick an elf neck to swing at next, the way things were going.

Elrond became aware that Frodo was trying to say something, his small voice lost in the horrific din.

Elrond held up his hands, signaling quiet and those who noticed him ceased their bickering.

“I will take it,” Frodo was saying, his voice becoming louder as the room grew quieter. “I will take the Ring to Mordor,” he repeated and everyone froze.

“Although I do not know the way,” he finished quietly.

Elrond exchanged looks with Gandalf, who smiled a little sadly. They had both foreseen this development, but it had to be entirely Frodo’s choice.

Elrond looked searchingly into the faces of those who volunteered to go with Frodo. The man from Gondor, Boromir, certainly had his own agenda, and Elrond did not like his attitude when he talked about the Ring.

_Evil will come of this,_ Elrond thought, but it was not as though he could keep Boromir out of the company, their paths joined together for many leagues.

Suddenly the courtyard was full of hobbits, dozens of them, it seemed, but actually only the three companions of Frodo.

Merry and Pippin were being stubborn, arguing with Elrond, their arms folded in front of them.

“Nay,” Elrond repeated, flatly.

“Then you will have to tie us up in a sack,” Pippin was saying.

Elrond looked at Gandalf, who unexpectedly intervened for the young hobbits.

“Let it be so then,” sighed Elrond, defeated. “Now the tale of the Nine is filled. In a fortnight the company must depart.”

The courtyard emptied out slowly. Elrond sat down in his chair and closed his eyes. He took off his circlet and massaged his temple with his fingers.

“Lord Elrond,” said a voice next to him.

Elrond opened his eyes. It was Legolas Greenleaf, son of King Thranduil of Eryn Galen.

“May I be of assistance to you?” Elrond asked politely in spite of a throbbing headache.

“Last evening, in the hall of singing,” began Legolas, “there was a lady next to you.”

“My daughter, Lady Arwen?” Elrond asked.

“Nay,” said Legolas, becoming embarrassed. “This lady did not resemble you, she had reddish hair.”

“Perhaps you refer to my betrothed, Lady Culurien,” Elrond concluded.

“Yes,” said Legolas, excited. “I thought that was she, but I was not sure. She is a cousin of mine,” he added, by way of explanation.

“Ah, yes,” said Elrond. “I should have realized it. Why did you not come forward and speak to her?”

“I did not have anyone to present me,” Legolas said, “and I could not believe it was she. The last knowledge I had of her, she was married and residing in Lothlórien.”

“Ah, yes,” Elrond repeated, looking embarrassed in turn. “And you wish to know how she went from being the wife of one elf in one city, to the betrothed of another elf in a different city.”

“Well, no,” said Legolas, his cheeks scarlet. “Actually, yes, but no. I merely wanted to ascertain it was she and receive your permission to approach her.”

“Granted,” said Elrond. “If it is all the same to you, I do not believe I will go into all the circumstances. I think that should be the Lady’s choice.”

Legolas bowed and left the courtyard. Elrond closed his eyes and began the massage again.

“Lord Elrond,” said a voice next to him. Elrond opened one eye. It was Glóin and his son Gimli, who had left the area to have words with each other and then returned.

“May I be of assistance to you?” Elrond asked politely as he rose, with a dark look in his grey eyes.

Glóin spoke. “My son Gimli, would like to apologize for his behavior during the council meeting.”

And well he should, thought Elrond, Gimli having provoked the mêlée by continuously shouting ‘never trust an elf.’

Elrond stood silently, waiting. Gimli was looking at his own feet. “Sorry,” he said, finally.

Elrond looked at Glóin and raised an eyebrow. Glóin nudged his son in the ribs. Gimli cleared his throat and started again.

“ ’pologize, . . .should not have said that . . .” he mumbled gruffly, never looking up at the tall elf.

Elrond sighed. “Gimli son of Glóin,” he said, “I imagine you have many virtues, but verbal expression, politeness and tact cannot be numbered among them. Slow you should be to voice such opinions in the company of strangers on the road before you. Doing so, may put the entire Fellowship in jeopardy,” Elrond paused, looking grimly at the dwarf.

“Are you still of the same mind concerning the journey?” he asked, more quietly.

Gimli looked up. “I lack those things you mentioned,” said he. “Strength and loyalty I have greatly. If these are valued in a companion, I will still be welcome.”

“I am sure of it,” said Elrond, laying his hand on the other’s shoulder. “Give some thought to your words before they emerge and you will have no need to find yourself in a situation such as this again,” he finished with a small smile on his lips.

_Never trust an elf indeed,_ he thought, sitting once more. A person would have to be foolhardy or have a death wish to utter such a statement in Imladris.

_The former,_ Elrond decided, sighing. He closed his eyes and began the massage again.  
“Lord Elrond,” said a voice next to him. Elrond did not open his eyes. _Why had he not fled to his chamber when he had the chance,_ he thought. There was a nice lock on the door and . . .

 

Lord Elrond,” said the voice again.

Elrond very slowly opened his eyes. The speaker was a man named Hirion from the nearby settlement of men in Rhudaur.

“May I be of assistance to you?” Elrond asked politely, through clenched teeth.

Yes, indeed, for Hirion and his companions were very confused by the discussion of this Council, how did these events affect Rhudaur, and what was all this talk of a king and that scruffy looking fellow sitting there, it was he? And where was Gondor, by the way and so on, and so forth, blah, blah, blah . . . .

Elrond closed his eyes.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Culurien was in the garden cutting some late blooming flowers, when she heard a step behind her. She whirled around, alarmed.

“Culurien?” Legolas asked. “It is I, your cousin.”

She breathed out a sigh, her heart beating rapidly. “Do not sneak up on one,” she admonished. “You quite startled me.”

“I am sorry,” Legolas apologized.

Culurien looked at him for a minute, then smiled. “Legolas Greenleaf,” she said. “What are you doing in Imladris?”

“I might ask you the same question,” he responded. Culurien paled slightly.

“Have you any news of my parents, or my brother and sister?” she asked, avoiding the inquiry.

“They are well, so far as I know,” Legolas said.

“Ah, that is good,” Culurien responded. “What is your errand here?”

“I came to give the Council news of the creature Gollum,” Legolas answered.

“Who?” Culurien asked. Legolas shook his head. “Never mind,” he said. “It is a long story.” “Cousin,” he said, putting his hands on her shoulders and looking into her eyes. “Everyone in Eryn Galen thinks you are married to Gwindor of Lothlórien.”

“I was, sixty-seven years ago,” said Culurien biting her lip and turning from his gaze.

“What happened?” asked Legolas. “Was he slain?”

“Nay, he lives,” she answered. Legolas looked at her for a moment.

“Do you not wish to tell me?” he asked.

“I do not, actually,” she admitted. “But I will, for you would find out eventually.”

She took a deep breath. “I am unable to bear children,” she said. “Gwindor had our marriage annulled.”

Legolas looked shocked. He was speechless.

“I was somewhat distraught over this as you may well imagine,” she continued. “Lady Arwen, daughter of Lord Elrond was living in Lothlórien with her grandparents and we were friends. It was she who suggested that I come to Imladris for treatment of my mental anguish.” She paused. “I did so, and here I remained.”

“Betrothed to Lord Elrond,” said Legolas, impressed. “When is the wedding?”

“I know not,” said Culurien. Legolas raised his eyebrows. “This also is a long story,” she said. “I will tell it to you another time. How long will you be here?” she asked, changing the subject.

“Two weeks,” Legolas replied. “Then I journey with the Fellowship of Nine Walkers.”

She looked into his face. “Your task is grim,” she observed. “It is,” admitted Legolas, agreeing.

“I wish you well, Cousin,” Culurien said, holding out her hand. Legolas took it and kissed it.

“I wish you well also,” he said. “May you find happiness.”

“Then your wish is granted, for I have found it.” Culurien smiled. “We speak as if you are leaving immediately. We will have more opportunities to talk later.”

She turned back to her flowers as Legolas walked away. Something caught the corner of his eye as he was leaving the garden and he slowed, looking around. It was a man, one of Hirion’s company, sitting alone on a bench.

_There is nothing strange about that,_ thought Legolas, walking on. But it did seem odd, somehow. _Was he watching Culurien? Not very likely,_ he thought.

She jumped at the sound of a deep male voice.

“There you are, Brandir,” said Hirion. Culurien peered through the rows of tall flowers to see two men sitting on a bench, not far from her.

She picked up her basket and walked quickly towards the house. She found Elrond in his chamber, lying on the bed with a cold cloth across his forehead.

“Mellhîr!” she exclaimed. He held up a hand. “Quietly, please, quietly,” he whispered.

“Oh,” she said. “Headache?” he nodded. “Shall I fix you something?”she asked.

“No,” he returned quickly. “I will be fine.”

“If your condition is any indication,” she surmised, “I would guess the Council did not go very well?”

“The end went well enough,” he sighed. “Getting there was a trial.”

Culurien removed the cloth and kissed him, her hands cool on his face. “I have a cousin visiting Imladris,” she murmured.

“Yes, I have just been made aware of that,” he answered. “Have you spoken to him?”

“Yes,” she replied softly. Elrond looked at her face. He moved over a little and she got into bed with him.

They lay in each other’s arms, her head nestled on his shoulder. Lindir came silently into the room and regarded them for a moment. He smiled and drew all the curtains shut.

He walked softly out, closing the door to the bed chamber behind him as he went into the study, thanking Eru Ilúvatar for the gift of Culurien with all of his heart.

There, he sat at Elrond’s desk, put his feet up, and fended off a steady stream of visitors for the remainder of the afternoon.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


	29. Walks and Worries

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beautiful but spurned elf maiden Culurien, well not exactly a maiden, goes to Imladris for spiritual healing and encounters Elrond. A romantic comedy with dark undertones.

Imladris Revisited  
By: DLR 2002  
Disclaimer: Ditto, ditto  
Elrond/Culurien (F)  
Rated:PG13 for violence

Chapter 29

“Elrond” exclaimed Gandalf, striding up to him.

“Mithrandir,” responded Elrond, taking a handful of nuts from the bowl on the table.

“I needed to speak with you earlier,” Gandalf began.

“I was not receiving anyone this afternoon,” replied Elrond.

“That does not change the fact that I needed to speak with you,” retorted Gandalf.

Elrond looked at him. “I am here,” he said, eating the nuts. “Speak.”

“You are missing the point,” admonished Gandalf, with some heat.

Elrond looked around. The dining hall was beginning to fill up. “Calm yourself,” he said. “What is the point?”

“I needed to speak with you and your servant stated I could not,” related Gandalf.

“Oh?” inquired Elrond, wondering what might be a nice reward for Lindir.

“He actually barred my way,” bristled Gandalf.

“Did he, now?” responded Elrond. A very nice reward, he thought.

“And he had the audacity to ask me to leave!” exclaimed Gandalf, indignantly. “I insist that you speak with him.”

“Indeed I will,” said Elrond, doing a mental inventory of his rings and other jewelry.

“After all,” said Gandalf, “it may have been important.”

Elrond stopped chewing. “You mean it was not?” he inquired evenly.

“Of course it was,” said Gandalf, flustered.

“Then speak,” Elrond repeated.

“Nay, later, in private,” said Gandalf.

“I thought it could not wait,” returned Elrond, a dangerous look in his eyes.

“Lady Culurien,” remarked Gandalf. “How lovely you look.”

“Thank you, Mithrandir,” she responded, as she approached them. She looked back and forth to each of them. “What are you two fighting about?” she asked.

“Nothing,” said Gandalf, quickly.

Elrond continued to scowl at Gandalf as he reached for the nuts once again.

“Come,” Culurien said, tucking her arm through Elrond’s. “Come and speak with my cousin.”

Elrond reluctantly allowed himself to be led away, not without a dark look at the wizard.

During dinner, Legolas sat next to Culurien as her guest. It was a pleasant affair, with delicious food and plenty of wine. In some areas, maybe too much wine as some revelries became raucous.

“It is such a lovely evening,” Culurien remarked as she laid her napkin down, determined to get away from the noise. “Will anyone walk in the gardens with me?”

Elrond smiled. “I will join you shortly. Either take someone or wait for me. Do not go alone.” He crossed the room to speak with Glorfindel.

“Why can you not walk in the garden alone?” asked Legolas, incredulous.

“There is no reason, really,” Culurien said. “Just vague fears. There are so many strangers in Imladris right now. I have had an uncomfortable feeling of being watched, lately.”

Legolas looked at her with wide eyes. “Strange that you should say that,” he said. “There was a man in the garden when I left you earlier and it seemed odd.”

“Yes,” Culurien said, “I saw him as well.”

“Was he at dinner tonight?” asked Legolas. “How long will all of these guests stay?” he wanted to know.

“Most will be leaving in a day or so, save you of the fellowship, and yes, I noticed him at dinner,” she said.

“Was he watching you then?” Legolas asked.

“Yes,” Culurien said quietly.

“You must tell Lord Elrond,” Legolas insisted.

“There is no crime in staring at someone,” she pointed out. “I have no wish for any guest to leave here insulted.”

“Your well-being comes before petty grievances,” said Legolas.

“We do not know that my well-being is in jeopardy,” argued Culurien.

“All indications are pointing in that direction,” Legolas argued back.

Culurien sighed. “Never mind, I have no wish to walk in the gardens any more.”

Legolas looked ruefully her. “I have been irritating,” he said. “I apologize.”

Culurien laid her hand on his sleeve. “No apology necessary,” she consoled him.

“As long as you are not going outside walking, I think I will retire,” said Legolas. “It has been a long day. Good night, Cousin,” he said as he strode off.

Culurien looked around her. She and Legolas had been walking as they talked and she found herself far away from the dining hall.

The Hall of Kings was a little way to her left and the massive door was open. _That is odd,_ she thought, for the door always stood closed.

“Legolas,” she called, but he was gone. Culurien paused, looking at the door

_I am in the house, I have nothing to fear, except maybe this room,_ she thought, which always made her a little uneasy, all those statues and warriors.

She stood in the doorway and peered inside. She saw nothing. There were candles on the table in the corridor, and she lit one. She walked into the room about ten feet and the candle went out, extinguished by the draught coming through the doorway.

_Drat,_ she thought. She turned to leave and froze. The man Brandir stood in the doorway, effectively blocking her exit.

He had a bottle of wine in one hand and he took a long drink while he gazed at her in the dim light.

“Looking for someone, Lady?” he asked drunkenly.

Culurien said nothing, her eyes wide.

“I cannot help but notice the way you stare at me, Lady.” He curled his lips in a sneer. “Tired of all those pretty elf boys, are you?” he snickered, coming closer. “Think you can handle a man?” he asked, licking his lips.

Culurien’s brain worked feverishly. She took a deep breath.

“I can handle anything you wish to give me,” she said invitingly, putting her hands on his shoulders and pulling him closer.

All the color drained from his face as she brought her knee up sharply into his groin.

“You little bitch,” he gasped and reached out his arm to grab her. He got a handful of her bodice and pulled, tearing it.

Culurien took hold of his wrist and yanked it towards her, positioning her foot so that he tripped, falling flat on his face.

She side-stepped him as he fell and ran out the doorway, closing and locking the heavy door behind her.

She raced back to the dining hall, her heart pounding wildly.

“Elrond, Elrond!” she cried as she entered the room. Everyone ceased talking at once and stared at her.

Culurien promptly fainted, falling to the floor.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

_Windy,_ she thought, _why is it so windy?_ Culurien’s eyelids struggled open. There was a crowd of people gathered around her as she lay on a couch, all of them fanning her.

“Stay,” she cried, covering her face.

“Culurien,” Elrond said with intensity, shaking her a little. “What has happened?”

“It was Brandir,” she whispered. “He is locked inside the Hall of Kings.”

Elrond and Gandalf exchanged looks. “Did he touch you?” demanded Elrond, his face growing dark as he took in her torn dress and disheveled appearance.

“No,” she whispered, “although he meant to. He was drunk,” she added.

“What were you doing in the Hall of Kings?” asked Elrond, with a frown.

Culurien looked around. “Legolas and I were talking . . . I do not know . . . he left . . . the door was open, it was odd, so I went in and . . . and . . . ,” she started to make choking noises.

“Here,” Elrond said, giving her some water. “Brandir was in the hall?” he asked.

“Yes, but behind me, in front of the door,” she whispered.

“You escaped him?” asked Elrond, “How?”

She gave him a thin smile. “I remembered my lessons,” she said, her eyes twinkling.

He smiled back at her. “Maer sell,”* he whispered, touching her face.

He stood and his expression changed instantly. He looked at the circle of elves around him and collected the eyes of his captains. “Come with me,” he said.

“What has happened?” asked Hirion.

Elrond looked at him with ice in his dark eyes. “Your companion Brandir, has insulted Lady Culurien with unwanted attentions,” he replied. Hirion paled slightly. Elrond turned on his heel and left the room. Several elves followed him.

Arwen came and put her arms around Culurien as they watched the males go out.

“What will happen?” whispered Culurien.

“I know not,” Arwen whispered back. “The last time I saw that look on Adar’s face was when Naneth* was captured by the orcs.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Where are they going?” Pippin asked Merry.

“I do not know,” Merry answered. “Let us follow them.”

“I am with you,” said Pippin.

Frodo looked up. “Where are you going?” he asked.

“With them,” Merry said.

“You cannot possibly be of any help,” said Frodo.

“We just want to see what happens,” said Pippin. “Gandalf and Strider are going too,”

“Do not get in any trouble,” warned Frodo.

“Cousin,” said Merry. “When do we ever get into trouble?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

*Good girl.

*Mother


	30. A Tragic Outcome

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beautiful but spurned elf maiden Culurien, well not exactly a maiden, goes to Imladris for spiritual healing and encounters Elrond. A romantic comedy with dark undertones.

  
Imladris Revisited  
By: DLR 2002  
Disclaimer: Not mine,etc.  
Elrond/OFC  
Rated: PG13 for language, violence and sexual situations

Chapter 30

Brandir sat up. _Did he pass out?_ He was not sure. He raised his hand and felt the blood dripping from his nose.

"That Bitch," he said evenly. "I will teach that little slut a lesson, she will soon regret ever refusing me," he muttered.

A noise behind him caused him to turn around . There stood at least ten grim faced elves between him and the door. Their eyes were deadly cold as they stared at him.

Hirion, his captain, was there as well, with some other men. Brandir's eyes darted back and forth nervously.

Elrond strode a few steps to the wall and took down a sword. He swiftly raised the point to Brandir's throat.

"Move, and you die," he said. Brandir was silent.

Elrond leaned in closer to him, his face inches away from the other's.

"Is there any reason I should not slice off your miserable head right now?" he hissed at him through clenched teeth.

The sweat broke out on Brandir's brow. Hirion made a noise.

"I would offer a plea for his life," he said. "He is a kinsman of mine. I am sure he did not realize the magnitude of his transgression."

Elrond paid no attention. "Alas, cutting your throat may be far too quick a death," he said icily. "Perhaps we could find some other things to slice off before you die."

The sword point stayed at Brandir's throat, but Elrond's eyes moved meaningfully lower.

"I see no reason for death," said Hirion. "Your lady is unharmed. Surrender him to me and I will see to his punishment."

"Nay," said Elrond grimly. "He has come into my house, enjoyed my hospitality, and then threatened a member of my family. I will not slay him, but I reserve the choice of his punishment."

Hirion shrugged. "Agreed," said he.

Elrond lowered the sword and turned towards Hirion. As quick as lighting, Brandir leapt for Elrond and yanked him back by the hair, a knife appeared in his hand, headed directly for the elf-lord's throat.

Elladan was quicker. He pulled a dagger from his boot top and threw it, neatly slicing the man's jugular vein.

Elrond had not even had time to turn completely around. There was a long pause as all stood frozen. He looked at Hirion, then at Elladan.

"Thank you," he said to his son.

"You are welcome," answered Elladan.

Elrond gazed at the dying man on the floor with revulsion. "Dispose of that, if you would be so kind," he said to Hirion as he left the room.

Merry and Pippin had been peering through the doorway, watching.

"That was very exciting," observed Pippin. Merry agreed. They hurried back to the dining hall.

"What has happened?" asked Arwen, "did you see?"

"Yes," said Pippin. "It was very exciting." Merry nodded.

Elrond came back to the dining hall, followed by Glorfindel, Erestor and the other lords of the house. They all seemed quite grim.

Culurien looked questionably at Elrond. "He will trouble you no more," he said. His words did nothing to allay her growing apprehension.

Elladan faced the assembled company and cleared his throat. "The man Brandir attacked my Father from behind, like a coward and I slew him," he stated, matter-of -factly.

There was an intake of breath and everyone regarded him with shocked eyes.

"He would have killed my Father," Elladan added. Elrond laid his hand on his son's shoulder.

"He speaks the truth," he said. "Do not make harsh judgement."

The elves whispered anxiously. "We will be at war with the men of Rhudaur," they worried.

Elrond held up his hands for silence. "I do not think there is any cause for concern," he said. "Brandir brought this calamity on himself by his actions. Hirion knows this to be true."

"I told you it was exciting," said Pippin to Frodo and Sam. Merry nodded, agreeing.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Culurien looked at Elrond as he undressed. He felt her gaze and turned to her.

"Mellhîr," she whispered, her eyes filling with tears.

"Linariel," he whispered back.

She stood still, the tears rolling freely down her cheeks. He did not approach her, but stood silent, waiting.

"What are you sorry for?" he asked, although she had not even voiced it yet.

"I feel responsible," she said. "A man is dead that would not have been, if not for me."

"I know your anguish," Elrond said gently, "for I slew many in battle, strangers they were, enemies. But each with a life, a wife and children. This man should not have been my enemy."

He paused, looking at her. "But his actions made him my enemy, it was not your doing." She remained unconvinced.

He took her in his arms. "His blood is not on your hands. Nor is it even on Elladan's, strictly speaking, for he acted in my defense. One may live to regret one's own actions and find cleansing through forgiveness and atonement. Alternately, one may be compelled to pay for his transgressions in the Halls of Mandos."

Elrond paused and closed his eyes as sudden, unlooked for images assaulted him. _Ereinion,_ he thought briefly, then quickly pulled himself back out of that familiar hole, that black pit of despair.

Culurien looked at the struggle on his face and guessed where his thoughts lay. "Might we not encourage transgression, by simply being in the wrong place at the wrong time?"

"We cannot take blame for another's behavior. This is a lesson I have struggled with many times these long years, trust me. Tis is a responsibility that should not rest on anyone's shoulders, especially yours," he finished, his lips caressing the afore mentioned body part.

Culurien held him tightly as she continued to cry into his chest. Elrond sighed.

"I regret my own actions somewhat. If I had not threatened him, perhaps he would not have felt as desperate. If I had not been so foolish as to turn my back, perhaps he would not have had an opportunity to attack." He stroked her hair, gently comforting her.

"One can go around and around in this fashion indefinitely." He raised her head with his hand and looked into her eyes. "You did nothing to provoke these events, do not take everything  
so much to heart."

She looked at him a long moment, her eyes still shiny with tears. Her lips parted and they kissed slowly and deeply, their tongues exploring gently. They both shivered as waves of desire passed through them, engulfing them utterly.

They pressed their bodies tightly together, each relishing the warmth and scent of the other as they sought to assuage mental distress with physical closeness.

They kissed for a long while, neither one seeking to go beyond the soft, caressing, comforting movements of this first stage of intimacy, although Elrond's degree of arousal was becoming quite noticeable.

"The bed," he whispered, his breath hot on her mouth as he traced her lips with his tongue.

"A good idea," she agreed as her legs forgot how to bear her weight. He picked her up lightly as she continued to hold him firmly around the neck, their lips still locked together.

Their lovemaking was long and leisurely, both content to prolong every level to its fullest, with very little of the urgency that usually characterized their joining.

Intense, it still was, but the feeling was that of a delicious, sweetly agonizing ache, building slowly into sudden, deep-felt release, rather than a frenzied explosion.

They remained connected together, in each other's arms for a long while, blissful at the union of their spirits and flesh together.

Culurien lay on her side, her head propped up with one elbow, watching Elrond as he fell asleep. She touched him absentmindedly with one finger, tracing lines on his throat and chest, caressing him softly.

"Are you asleep, Mellhîr?" she asked. "Mmmm," he responded, his eyes closed.

"You said that you threatened him," she continued. "In what way?"

Elrond opened an eye and regarded her. "With a sword," he said simply.

"You threatened to kill him?" she asked, unbelieving.

"Not precisely," he replied.

She looked at him with narrowed eyes. "You are hedging," she said. He looked slightly uncomfortable.

"This is the part that may have caused him to become desperate," he said reluctantly.

"Yes?" she prompted.

He sighed "I may have given him the impression that his punishment would be to endure the loss of certain . . . ahem . . .masculine sections of his anatomy."

Culurien's eyes widened. "Cut off his . . . with a sword?" "Mmm hmm," admitted Elrond.

"Do you not think that was a little extreme?" she asked.

"I would not have done it," he responded.

"Well, you and I know that, obviously he did not," she argued.

Elrond sighed again. "A few moments ago, you and I were contented and happy, all of the day's stress magically washed away by a simple physical act. As a direct result of this conversation, however, I feel a high level of tension returning."

He pulled her down, tightly against his body. Their eyes met and he tried very hard to look serious.

"We will just have to start again from the beginning," he stated firmly.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


	31. Farewells and forebodings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beautiful but spurned elf maiden Culurien, well not exactly a maiden, goes to Imladris for spiritual healing and encounters Elrond. A romantic comedy with dark undertones.

Imladris Revisited  
By: DLR 2002  
Disclaimer: I solemnly swear I am not making any money off this.  
Elrond/OFC  
Rated:PG

Chapter 31

Elrond and Aragorn watched Hilmrod as he brought the edge of the sword against the grinding wheel.

The sparks flew as he pumped the foot pedal, moving the edge of the blade up and down.

"One would not know it was the same sword," murmured Elrond.

The new blade was much more ornate than the old one, bringing to mind the great weapons forged in Gondolin many an age ago.

"Yes," Aragorn agreed, "the rebirth of Narsil is reminiscent of a phoenix, rising from the ashes. It is like a great fire." He paused. "I name it Andúril, flame of the west."

They stood a moment in silence. Elrond laid his hand on his foster son's shoulder.

"May it prove to be worthy of the hand who wields it," he said with affection.

Aragorn put his hand on top of Elrond's. "The hand who wields it," he said, "owes everything to the Lord of Imladris."

Elrond's grey eyes grew sad and distant. "Nay, not everything," he said. "Your lineage and inheritance come not from me, but from my brother Elros, first king of Númenor. I am merely guardian and preserver, keeper of lore so that all is not forgotten."

Aragorn turned to face him. "You are much more than that to me," he said. "You are the father I never knew."

"I doubt that I have lived up to all the esteem you regard me with," said Elrond, sadly. "I knew not how to be a good father, I had no teacher, no guidance."

"How can you say that?" asked Aragorn, tears in his eyes. "You have been one strength in my life, especially since the passing of my mother. You are the only one that has always been there for me. You raised me and treated me as your own son. Although," he added, smiling ruefully, "we have not seen eye to eye on at least one issue lately."

"Ah, yes," said Elrond, greatly moved. "That is a subject for another time."

Aragorn put both of his hands on Elrond's shoulders. "I did not know my father," he said. "But I did not miss him, because you were there." He paused and took a deep breath. He then turned to Elrond again. "Could I have leave to address you as Adar?" he asked.

"There is nothing that would please me more," answered Elrond, tears in his own eyes. "I only wish you had asked years ago."

"I wished to," said Aragorn, "but I was far too much in awe of you then."

"And now?" asked Elrond.

"Now," replied Aragorn, "I simply love you, Adar."

Elrond closed his eyes. At that moment he felt a large piece of the pain he had carried inside himself for so long, heal and disappear, at last.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Many members of Elrond's household came out to watch the Company leave. It was cold and growing dark. Those who were waiting on the steps were shivering, in spite of the warm clothing they wore.

During these last few days Elrond had spoken with each member of the fellowship in turn, alone in his study, giving words of advice, searching their hearts, strengthening their resolve.

He stood now, on the step in front of Frodo. "Namárië,* Frodo Baggins," he said, his hand on Frodo's brow. "Nai tiruvantel ar varuvantel i Valar tielyanna nu vilya."*

Elrond turned to Gandalf and embraced him quickly. "Mithrandir," he began, then froze, looking into Gandalf's eyes.

"What is it, Mellon-iaur?" Gandalf asked quietly, as Elrond continued to stare at him, his eyes wide with shock.

"Adar," whispered Arwen, concerned. Elrond shook himself free of his daze.

"What?" persisted Gandalf. "It was nothing," said Elrond quickly.

"I do not believe that for a minute," said Gandalf.

Elrond made an effort to smile. "It was unimportant," he repeated, then he looked at Gandalf. "Gwanno ned sîdh,"* he said softly.

Elrond turned quickly to Aragorn and embraced him in silence, all of their parting words having been spoken earlier, in privacy.

Aragorn regarded Elrond for a moment, then moved his eyes to Arwen, holding her gaze for a short while. He then turned his back to the house of Imladris and led the Company into the deepening dusk.

Elrond stood still, silently watching them depart as the rest of his household retreated inside to the warmth.

Culurien put her arms around his waist and laid her head on his shoulder. Elrond absently stroked her hair, winding it through his fingers.

"What did you see?" she whispered. Elrond did not answer immediately.

"You really do not wish to know," he said finally.

"It was that bad?" she asked. "Indeed," he responded.

"About Mithrandir?" she asked. "Yes," he whispered.

"Perhaps you should have stopped him from going," Culurien said.

"Foresight of the future does not give one the power to change it," Elrond replied. "One's destiny will prevail by one means or another." He paused, deep in thought.

"Does he die?" Culurien asked.

"He falls into darkness and is lost to the company," Elrond replied, "but I have no sight behind the shadow and all is very hazy. There is much of this vision that confuses me. I will need to think on it a while," he added.

"What is confusing?" she asked.

"Mithrandir is an Istar, a Maia," * said Elrond, frowning. "It is not easy to slay one, perhaps even impossible. He would have to be stripped of his power first, then perhaps, it could be done."

"Who could take his power away?" Culurien asked. "Saruman?"

"Nay, Saruman may be a more powerful Istar, but Mithrandir holds Narya, the Ring of Fire. That would give him an advantage I think. Any of the Valar, certainly, could do it, but there are none here in Middle-earth."

"Sauron?" she asked.

Elrond frowned. "Nay, much of his power resides in the One Ring. Even should he regain it, I do not think he would have the strength for that."

"Maybe he does not die," Culurien said, hopefully.

"Maybe," agreed Elrond, comforting her.

They turned and walked over the threshold, into Imladris, their refuge. Elrond closed the heavy front door, locking out the ever deepening darkness of the world outside.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

*Farewell.

*May the Valar protect you on your path under the sky.

*Depart in peace

*Wizard, Holy one.


	32. A Gift Fit For a King

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beautiful but spurned elf maiden Culurien, well not exactly a maiden, goes to Imladris for spiritual healing and encounters Elrond. A romantic comedy with dark undertones.

Chapter 32

Early Spring, 3019

Lindir was shaking Elrond by the shoulder. Elrond grunted as his dreams transformed into wakefulness.

“There are men here, Lord,” Lindir said, “many men at the upper gates asking to see you.”

Elrond grunted again and pulled on some clothes.

“What is it?” Culurien asked sleepily. “Visitors,” he replied.

“We are closed,” she said. “Bid them come back in the morning.”

Elrond smiled at her jest. He gave her a quick kiss, then followed Lindir down the hallway.

At the front door, there was a messenger from the upper gate. “My Lord,” he said, acknowledging Elrond.

“There are some thirty men requesting admission. They say they are Dúnedain and their leader is known to you, his name is Halbarad.”

Elrond turned to Lindir. “Go and wake Elladan,” he said. Then to Arminas, who was standing, waiting for orders, he said “assemble a company of archers immediately.” Arminas saluted him and hurried off.

Elrond addressed himself to the messenger. “Halbarad is known to me, although I cannot answer for his company. Bid Elemmakil to only leave enough archers to guard the gate and to send the rest down behind the strangers.”

The elf saluted then ran back into the darkness.

Elrond waited on the front steps. He was soon joined by Elladan, followed by Elrohir.

“What is it?” asked Elladan, tucking in his shirt.

“Dúnedain,” replied Elrond, “so they say. I would like you to vouch for them.”

Before long, horsemen could be heard approaching the house. Arminas had twenty archers lined up, waiting.

“Is this necessary?” asked Elrohir. “We know they are Dúnedain.”

“We do not know it,” said Elrond. “Not yet. To me they are thirty armed strangers who have not been recognized by anyone.” He looked at his son and grinned. “Where is your brain, still sleeping?” Elrohir blushed.

Lanterns were directed at the approaching horsemen.

“It is no ruse,” said Elladan. “It is indeed they.” He hurried over to Halbarad. The men dismounted. Elrond welcomed them and led the way to the small dining hall. He gave instructions for food and wine to be served as everyone sat down.

Elrond addressed Halbarad. “What is your errand?” he asked.

“We seek Aragorn,” Halbarad replied. “We are aware he is not here,” he amended before anyone could speak. “We wish to know if you have had word of him.”

Elrond thought for a moment. “Last information I received would put him in Rohan by now,” he concluded.

Halbarad pulled out a worn map. “Rohan,” he muttered. “I am not familiar with the south at all.”

Elrond looked over Halbarad’s shoulder at the map. “We are here,” he said, indicating Imladris, for it was unmarked. “There are no good roads whether you stay on the west of the mountains or crossover to travel on the east.

On the west side, follow the foothills until you reach the Gap of Rohan, here. Avoid Isengard, though, it has become an evil place.”

“Yes,” said Halbarad, nodding. “We have heard of the treachery of Saruman.”

“To the west at the northern edge of Ered Nimrais, lies the royal city of Edoras,” continued Elrond. “You should attend there first. Do not cross the plains of Rohan without leave from the king.”

Halbarad looked at the map again. “Suppose we take the eastern road,” he said. “Do we fear the woods of Lothlórien?”

“Only in dire need should you approach the Golden Wood,” said Elrond. “Unless you perchance have the favor of the Lady?” He looked at Halbarad, his eyebrows raised questioningly.

“Nay,” said he, “I have never met her.”

“Then I do not think my name or Aragorn’s will be passport enough,” Elrond said. “And likewise Fangorn Forest,” he pointed at the map.

“In it also lays peril of a certain kind. Not entirely evil, mind you, but best to stay clear, it will only hinder your journey.”

The food arrived and the hungry men applied themselves.

“Why do you seek Aragorn?” Elrond asked, after they had slowed somewhat.

“I received a message,” said Halbarad, as he wiped his plate with some bread.

“From whom?” asked Elrond, puzzled.

“I know not,” said Halbarad. “It came to me in a dream. “Aragorn has need of his kindred, let the Dúnedain ride forth.”

Elladan and Elrohir exchanged glances. “That is it,” said Elladan, “we ride with you.”

Elrond looked at his offspring. “I will listen to no argument in this matter, Adar,” began Elladan.

“I give you none,” said Elrond, holding his son’s eyes for a moment. “Estel is your brother; you should ride to his aid if he requests it. Although it was not he making the request?” he asked, turning back to Halbarad.

“I do not think so,” Halbarad answered.

“Nay, it was Galadriel,” said a soft voice behind them. They turned and beheld Arwen standing in the doorway, listening.

Elrond regarded his daughter for a moment and arched an eyebrow. “Tis something I just know,” she said, reading his unspoken thoughts.

“Perhaps, then, you do have the favor of the Lady,” smiled Elrond to Halbarad. “May you have no need to make use of it.”

Arwen’s brothers rose from the table. “We must make ready,” said Elladan. As he left the room, Arwen put her hand on his arm.

“It is finished,” she whispered. “You have not forgotten your promise?”

“Nay,” said he with a smile. “Go and fetch it.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The sky was becoming grey as the men mounted their horses. Elrond pulled his sons aside and spoke to them privately, charging them with messages for Aragorn.

They were nearly ready to leave when Arwen reappeared, carrying a long staff, close furled in black cloth, bound with strips of leather. She gave it into the keeping of Elladan.

“What is that?” asked Elrond, though in his heart he had already guessed.

“A present for Estel that I have made,” Arwen whispered.

Elrond looked into her eyes. “May I see it?” he asked quietly. She nodded, undoing the thongs.

Elrond’s eyes glistened as he looked upon the great, black standard, embroidered with the symbols of the House of Elendil, the seven stars, the high crown and the White Tree of Gondor.

His hand reached out to touch the bright gems that represented the stars. The crown was sewn with threads of gold and mithril.

“Undómiel,” he whispered, overcome. He put his arms around her. “It is beautiful beyond words.”

She laid her head on his shoulder as they gazed at the flag of the King of Gondor.

“If Estel’s reaction is only half that of yours, then I shall be happy,” she said, sighing.

“You should have no doubt as to what his reaction will be,” said Elrond.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


	33. Travels and Talks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beautiful but spurned elf maiden Culurien, well not exactly a maiden, goes to Imladris for spiritual healing and encounters Elrond. A romantic comedy with dark undertones.

Imladris Revisited

By: DLR 2002

Disclaimer: (becoming serious once more) All characters (except Culurien) belong to the estate of JRR Tolkien and his descendants for probably all millennia.

Elrond/OFC

Rated: PG13

Chapter 33

Late May 3019

"Why do we have to stop in Lothlórien?" Culurien whispered to Arwen.

"Is it not obvious?" asked Arwen. "My grandsires are coming, we all journey south together."

Culurien sighed. "I am sorry," she said, "it is obvious, I simply do not wish to do so."

Arwen looked at her friend with sympathy. "I know how you must feel," she said. "Perhaps you will not see him."

"I should have such good fortune," muttered Culurien.

They had reached the outskirts of the forest and they halted, just under the boughs of the trees.

Glorfindel looked around expectantly. "What, no one here to meet us?" he jested.

"Apparently not," said Elrond, smiling. "Come, let us travel further inside."

The forest was eerily silent in spite of the noise of the passing horses.

"It seems as if the trees are watching us," said Erestor with a shudder.

"If Lothlórien makes you uncomfortable, stray into Fangorn on your peril," said Elrond, smiling at him.

"Are we going near it?" asked Erestor, paling.

"Near it, yes, but not into it," said Elrond. He lifted his eyebrows. "Unless you are curious?" he asked. "We could make a small side trip."

"No, no," said Erestor hurriedly. "Do not trouble yourself on my account."

Elrond and Glorfindel exchanged smiles.

They rode on, unchecked. All were in awe of the magnificent beauty of the Golden Wood in springtime.

"This is odd," said Glorfindel. "Are the boundaries no longer guarded?"

"Nay, they are there, watching," said Elrond. "I imagine they merely assume we know the way and do not need guidance." He turned in his saddle, looking about. His eyes fell on Culurien and softened somewhat. She looked more uncomfortable than Erestor, if possible.

_It cannot be helped,_ Elrond sighed inwardly. He, however, would not mind meeting this former husband of hers at all.

They had journeyed an entire day beneath the boughs of the Golden Wood and dusk was falling. Still, no sentries approached them.

They stopped at last in an open field. There was a great hill to one side, crowned with trees.

"Cerin Amroth," said Elrond, quietly. A wave of sadness washed over him suddenly and he stood subdued, although he knew not why.

Culurien reached up and touched his face. He took her in his arms and held her tightly, while all around them, others went about the business of preparing food and shelter.

Arwen stood by herself, thoughtful as well, but with much gladness in her heart.

Here she had made her choice and plighted her troth to Aragorn, some forty years ago.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The fires burned low and the stars came out. Sleep would not come to Elrond and he lay wide awake with Culurien slumbering next to him. He gazed at the heavens as the night deepened, seeking comfort from the stars, as he did when he was young.

"You are miles away, Mellhîr," Culurien said softly. Elrond turned to her, startled.

"I am sorry," he said, "did I wake you?"

"I have been unable to sleep as well," she said.

A small smile appeared on his lips. "When did you start snoring while awake?" he teased. He felt her body tense in the darkness.

"I do not snore," Culurien said. "Tis you who snores."

"Nay, you do not snore," Elrond agreed, with a soft chuckle. "I must have imagined it. Perchance it was a wild beast in the forest, rooting around . . ."

She slapped him playfully. "Hush this minute," she said. "You will wake everyone."

She snuggled back down into his arms, sighing with contentment at the feeling of pleasure the warmth of his body gave to her. She soon was breathing deeply, occasionally making a small snorting noise.

Elrond smiled broadly in the darkness and turned his face away from the heavens, finding his comfort here on Arda as he held her close.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The end of the next day's journey brought them to the south facing gates of the great city whose walls they had ridden next to for many hours.

Elrond dismounted and approached the gate. There was no one to be seen.

"City of the Galadhrim," he called in his clear voice. "The Host of Imladris seeks entry."

The gate opened soundlessly and the travelers stepped inside. There stood a tall elf that Arwen recognized.

"Orophin," she smiled. He smiled as well. "Welcome to Caras Galadhon, Host of Imladris," he exclaimed. "The Lord and Lady await thee."

"Why did no one meet us as we entered the wood?" demanded Glorfindel.

"Did you not know the way?" asked Orophin, surprised.

"Yes indeed, but what does that have to . . ." began Glorfindel.

“You encountered obstacles?” asked Orophin.

“Well, no,” admitted Glorfindel, “but an escort . . .”

“. . . Seems quite unnecessary,” said Orophin.

“Merely common courtesy,” grumbled Glorfindel under his breath

Elrond rolled his eyes, hiding a smile. “Enough of these pleasantries, perhaps we could move this along?”

“Certainly, Lord,” said Orophin standing to the side to let them pass.

“Are you not going to escort . . . ?” began Glorfindel, “Ai, do not kick me, I am moving,” he whispered to Elrond.

“Perhaps your feet could move faster than your mouth,” Elrond whispered back as they made their way into the city.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

There he is, over there," said Culurien, studying her shoes with some intensity.

"Where?" Elrond asked. "Next to the pillar," she answered.

"Mmmph," Elrond said, his eyes narrowing.

"Please do not approach him; I have nothing to say to him," Culurien pleaded. "I also have no wish to see you degenerate into a genitalia slicing mood," she added.

Elrond's lips twitched, but his eyes maintained a slightly murderous look.

"Please," she whispered. "There is no point to it now."

"The point would be to have him understand the extent of the damage he did to you," argued Elrond.

"I do not care anymore what he understands or does not. His thoughts are worthless to me," Culurien said.

Elrond looked at her for a minute. "I do not want him to become your Gil-galad," he said softly. "Regrets of words left unsaid can be difficult to live with."

She looked into his eyes and smiled. "Truly, I have naught to say to him. I am ready to go now.”

Elrond pulled her arm through his. Turning, they walked away.

"On your head be it," he said gravely, "if he throws a dagger into my back."

"Walk more quickly," she whispered.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"I had forgotten how much I enjoy long journeys," Culurien said with sarcasm as the rain soaked through her cloak.

"At least it is almost summer," Arwen said. "Wet is bad enough, but cold and wet are much worse."

Culurien smiled at her friend. "Not even this deluge can dampen your spirit," she observed.

Arwen's eyes reflected her happiness as she smiled back. "My life's journey awaits me at the end of this one," she said. "Each step closer increases my joy."

It had the opposite effect on Elrond. Each stage of the journey brought more and more sadness to him. Culurien witnessed his growing despair.

"Arwen is so happy," she said softly to him one evening. "Would you have her abandon that joy for your sake?"

"Indeed, no," he said. "Her unhappiness would not give me pleasure. Either road brings the same grief for me. She will die with him and she will also die without him, better she be happy for a time."

"She will not be, if you cannot control your feelings, at least in public," Culurien whispered quietly.

"My grief is so apparent?" Elrond asked.

"It is," she said. "Your entire countenance is stamped with it."

He bowed his head and sighed. "This is becoming harder than I thought it would be," he whispered.

She stroked his hair for a few minutes, by way of comfort. "Now then," she said, pulling his face toward her. "Practice. Look happy."

He forced a smile. "Ugh no," she said. "Stop. That is worse."

Elrond looked at her and sighed once again. "You are difficult to please," he said.

"So I have been told," she answered with a smile.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"I would just like to have a little information," Arwen said to Culurien.

They were walking just on the edge of Fangorn Forest and dusk was falling.

"I do not understand why you do not approach Galadriel," Culurien said with some embarrassment.

"I have," said Arwen, rolling her eyes. "To listen to Grandmother, it all sounds more spiritual than physical. Maybe it is, for her, after all, she's been married about ten millennia."

"Well," said Culurien, "you are three thousand years old; surely you have picked up some knowledge after all this time."

“How much knowledge did you have before you were married?" asked Arwen.

"Very little, but I was only about five hundred, there is a difference," she responded.

"Well, there is no difference in my case," said Arwen. "For I have lived a very sheltered life. Sometimes it seemed as though Ada took pains to keep any and all information from me. Even in Lothlórien, I felt as though I were in some kind of cloister, an outsider, trying to see in through a dirty window."

"I see," said Culurien, with understanding. It was really not surprising after all, that Arwen should be so innocent. Given Elrond's own experiences, one could easily understand the extreme lengths to which he would go, to protect his children, especially his daughter.

"Well, it still seems as though you could ask someone else," said Culurien. "It would be one thing if we were talking about Gwindor, but we are not, we are talking about your father, it seems awkward."

"Mothers usually tell their daughters, correct?" asked Arwen.

"Yes, of course," said Culurien.

"Well, they would be talking about the daughter's father, would they not?" stated Arwen firmly.

"I did not think of it that way," said Culurien, sitting down, her back against a giant oak.

"Are you afraid of the trees?" Arwen asked, suddenly.

"Of course not," said Culurien. "I grew up in Eryn Galen, remember?"

"Erestor is petrified," said Arwen with a smile.

"It can be a little unnerving when the trees move around, especially in an ancient forest like this one," Culurien admitted, glad to change the subject.

"Ancient it is," said Arwen thoughtfully. "One can hear many voices."

There was a pause. "Now then," Arwen continued. "Tell me what to expect."

"Half the fun is in the anticipation," said Culurien hopefully. Arwen looked at her.

"Oh, very well," Culurien sighed. "I have had two very different experiences. The first was with someone I thought I was in love with. As it turned out, I did not know what love was." She paused and contemplated her friend.

"You, I think, will not have that problem, based on what you have confided to me, about how you feel when you are with Estel.

This is how love should be, this is what your father and I have as well. Loving with the mind is an important aspect. It will keep your emotions on an even keel, it will endure through the centuries, but the love you will feel when physically intimate with him, the excitement, the desire, this is a precious thing. Hold on tight; do not lose sight of it."

Arwen sighed. "I will be happy to take your advice if you would please just tell me what I am holding on to, I have no clue."

"Fine, we will start at the beginning," said Culurien, rolling her eyes. "Have you ever seen a naked male?" she asked, getting right to the point.

"Well, yes," Arwen said. "Children, statues.

"Ah yes," said Culurien. "Picture that statue in the courtyard in Caras Galadhon, off to the side, near the fountain."

"You mean the one where he looks like he is sprouting a tree from his loins?" she asked, her eyes wide.

"Exactly." replied Culurien, with an inward smile.

“I always thought that was a joke of some kind," Arwen said with some bewilderment.

"Nay," said Culurien, valiantly trying to maintain a serious face. "That is what he will come to look like during the act."

"Why on Arda would anyone want to make a statue look like that?" Arwen asked.

"It is a natural condition," Culurien said, with her hands covering her mouth.

Arwen was thoughtful. "The condition comes and goes?" she asked.

"Yes," said Culurien, barely in control. "It will be like that when he is very excited."

"And what will excite him?" Arwen asked.

"You of course, you ninny." Culurien laughed, losing the battle totally.

Arwen looked embarrassed. "What will I have to do?" she wondered.

"For now, nothing," Culurien said. "Just kiss him and he will do the rest."

"What, exactly, is the rest?" asked Arwen, finally coming to the heart of her worries.

"Well, when it is stiff like that, it slides easily into you," Culurien elaborated.

"Into me?" Arwen asked, paling.

“Yes, into there," said Culurien, pointing. "That is how he puts his seed into you to make a baby and that is where the baby comes out."

"Childbirth, I have seen a little," Arwen admitted, "but I always faint." She looked up suddenly. "Oh dear, I am sorry," she said. "This subject must be very painful for you."

"Actually, no," said Culurien, "for I will have children soon."

"Why do you say that?" asked Arwen, puzzled.

"We had a dream, your father and I," Culurien told her, "many years back. Both of us at the same time, the same exact dream."

"A dream? What was it?" asked Arwen, surprised.

"We were very happy and we had two children, a boy and a girl, twins." Culurien explained.

"Twins again!" exclaimed Arwen. "Poor Adar! How do you know it was not merely a dream and nothing more?"

"We believe it to have been a reassurance of the future," she said, "a sign from Manwë."

"Why is it taking so long?" Arwen asked. "Do you know when it will happen?"

"After we leave Middle-earth and become married," said Culurien quietly.

"Oh," said Arwen, subdued. "Soon, I think you said?"

"Soon," repeated Culurien.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  



	34. A Time for Joy, a Time for Sorrow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beautiful but spurned elf maiden Culurien, well not exactly a maiden, goes to Imladris for spiritual healing and encounters Elrond. A romantic comedy with dark undertones.

Imladris Revisited

By: DLR 2002

Disclaimer: Why do I even bother to type it at this point?

Elrond/OFC

Rated: PG

Chapter 34

"Are you going to be able to do this?" Culurien asked, touching his face.

"I am fine," said Elrond, not looking at her.

"That is not really what I asked you," Culurien said.

"I am fine," Elrond repeated.

She turned his head towards her to look into his eyes. He gazed back at her vacantly. Culurien sighed and sat on the bed.

"You look very handsome," she observed. Elrond did not respond. He was dressed and Lindir was finishing his hair. Culurien was dressed as well, her toilette completed.

She studied Elrond's face for a minute, and then exchanged glances with Lindir. She could see that he was worried as well.

"You are ready, Lord," said Lindir. Elrond rose without a word. He offered his elbow to Culurien and she slipped her arm through it. They walked in silence through the hallways until they reached a courtyard.

There in the sunshine stood Galadriel and Celeborn. With them were all the lords and ladies of Lothlórien and Imladris.

"I will be back shortly," said Culurien as she gathered up her skirts and climbed a small stairway. She stopped before a door and entered without knocking.

Arwen turned to her as she approached, a radiant smile brightening her face. They embraced.

"Look at you," whispered Culurien, for Arwen was indeed, a vision of loveliness.

"You, as well," Arwen said, her eyes shining.

Culurien smiled. "Are you ready?"  


"I believe so," Arwen replied as her maids hovered around, making adjustments. "How is Adar?"

"He is fine," Culurien replied, lying.

Arwen looked troubled for a moment. "I doubt that.

"You are right," Culurien admitted. "But do not worry, he will find strength for your sake".

Arwen hugged her again. "I love you," she whispered.

"And I, you," Culurien said, her eyes filling with tears. "Come, they are waiting."

She opened the door and motioned for Arwen to precede her. They walked down the stairs to join the group waiting in the courtyard. All eyes were on Arwen as she approached Elrond.

She looked at his face, then glanced over at Culurien, who was failing to conceal her own concern.

"Adar," Arwen whispered. Elrond turned towards her. His face was a mask, his eyes unreadable. "Adar, please".

"I am fine," Elrond said, his voice devoid of all expression.

Celeborn and Galadriel exchanged uneasy glances. Arwen kissed her grandparents and also her brothers.

"We must start," said Celeborn.

The processional formed and proceeded up the hill to the Citadel of the White City. Elrond and Arwen came last.

All the folk of Minas Tirith turned out to watch the wedding parade. They marveled at the sight of the bridal party, for the Eldar seldom visited Gondor.

They entered the Citadel and the procession parted, the leading elves turning to the sides, allowing Celeborn and Galadriel to walk up the center aisle first, followed by the bridesmaids, Culurien, then Arwen and Elrond.

At the end of the aisle there was a high altar. Elladan and Elrohir came up and stood with Aragorn, who waited there.

Elrond tarried until all the attendants had walked the length of the aisle, then he and Arwen proceeded slowly.

Arwen stole a glance at him. His face was like marble, his eyes stared straight ahead.

This last walk seemed to take forever.

Arwen wondered if she was going to faint, then she focused her eyes on Aragorn, his serious figure giving her strength.

Finally, they were there.

Aragorn held out his hand. Elrond seemed to freeze for several seconds. Slowly he took Arwen's hand off his arm and placed it in the hand of the King.

The Bride and Bridegroom walked the remaining steps to the altar alone.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"To the Bride and Groom," Celeborn said, raising his glass. Elrond raised his glass as well. Culurien could see his hand trembling.

"The Bride and Groom," they echoed.

Elrond's grip tightened and the glass shattered. He stared at the broken glass in his hand as all eyes turned toward him.

"Adar," Arwen whispered as Elrond stood, mesmerized, watching the drops of blood trickle down his palm.

He slowly raised his eyes to meet his daughter's.

"Undómiel." His face revealed his great anguish. She gazed back at him, her eyes pleading.

Their eyes remained locked together for several seconds.

The mask came down into place once more and Elrond turned away from her.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Culurien and Elrond left the reception as soon as it was polite to do so, returning to their rooms.

They undressed and Elrond lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling. She had made several attempts to talk to him, but had received no response.

She curled up in a chair by the window and watched him, waiting.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Arwen sighed with pleasure. _Culurien had certainly left out all of the best parts,_ she thought. She would not have worried at all, if she had known it would be like this.

Aragorn was kissing her, touching her and a feeling of bliss and desire overwhelmed them both. Arwen gave a thought to her father and she offered up a prayer for him.

"Please, Manwë, let him be all right."

Aragorn smiled at her and gave her reassurance. "Culurien will make sure of that," he said and she flashed him a grateful smile.

They returned their attention to where it belonged.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It had been hours and still Elrond lay unblinking, unaware. Finally, Culurien stood up from the chair and got into the bed beside him.

"Mellhîr," she whispered. Nothing, no response. She shook him with more intensity. "Mellhîr!" He sat up and looked at her.

"I am fine," he whispered.

"No, Mellhîr, you are not," Culurien said sharply, her hands on his face. Then she laid his head on her shoulder as he began to cry.

She stroked his hair and held him tightly as he wept.

She sang softly to him and held him close to her as he cried through the night

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


	35. Another New Beginning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beautiful but spurned elf maiden Culurien, well not exactly a maiden, goes to Imladris for spiritual healing and encounters Elrond. A romantic comedy with dark undertones.

Imladris Revisited

By: DLR 2002

Disclaimer: Most of these characters are owned by the estate of JRR Tolkien

Elrond/OFC

Rated: PG

Chapter 35

September 29, 3021 T.A.

“I do not like boats,” said Culurien, “especially large ones.”

Elrond folded his arms in front of him. “You have traveled all this way, have you changed your mind? Do you plan on staying behind?”

“Nay, of course not.” She looked nervously at the great white ship docked at the quay.

“What is wrong?” asked Gandalf, coming over to them.

“Everyone else is on board,” said Elrond, his words accentuated with a glimmer of annoyance.

“I am coming, pray, give me a minute,” said Culurien, rooted to the spot.

“Why is this an issue now?” asked Elrond. “You have known about this for years. You have had ample time to become accustomed to the idea.”

She became stubborn. “I am finding that ‘knowing’ and ‘doing’ are two very different things.”

Elrond rolled his eyes at Gandalf. “You need to make a decision now. What is your choice? Are you coming or staying?”

“I am coming, naturally,” she said, slowly backing away from the ship.

His eyes narrowed. “Fine. That is all I wished to know.”

He bent over, tucked his shoulder into her abdomen, put his arm around her buttocks and stood up, with Culurien slung over his shoulder, across his back and started up the long gangplank that led onto the ship.

“Do not struggle;” he warned her, “I might drop you into the water.”

She hung over his shoulder like a limp sack after that remark.

“What a very barbaric, but somehow romantic abduction,” murmured Galadriel as they came over the side.

“No one is being abducted,” said Elrond. “Culurien joins us of her own free will, do you

not?” he asked her, giving her legs a squeeze. She made a muffled sound into his back.

Elrond smiled brightly. “There, you see? It is just merely a whim on her part to board ships in this fashion. Tis an unusual fetish, I grant you, but I indulge it, I can refuse her nothing.” He set her down on the deck.

Culurien opened her mouth to protest and immediately turned green at the sight of her surroundings. She promptly fainted.

“Well,” said Elrond, looking at Glorfindel. “This ought to be a pleasant voyage.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Epilogue

Some months later

The Halls of Manwë

Taniquetil, Valinor

“Elrond Peredhil most blessed of all the Eldalië,” began Manwë, his hand on Elrond’s head.

“Lord Manwë,” whispered Elrond, from his kneeling position on the floor.

“We welcome thee at last to the Blessed Realm,” continued Manwë from his throne.

“We wish to know, however, why didst thou not come sooner?” he asked gravely.

Elrond looked up, startled. “Many tasks were appointed to me Lord,” he began. “I thought I was doing thy will.”

“Nay,” said Manwë. “My will was for all of the Eldar to return to Valinor after the fall of Thangorodrim.”

“Oh.” Elrond became very pale. “It seems that was not clear to everyone, we thought we had a choice.”

Manwë sighed. “Never mind. On to other matters.” He turned to look at Culurien, who was kneeling on the floor beside Elrond. “I gave thee permission to marry this lovely lady. Why didst thou not do it?”

“Gave permi . . .” Elrond started. Culurien looked up, shocked.

“Yes, yes,” Manwë said. “The dream, I sent thee a dream, did thou not receive it?”

Elrond’s mouth moved, but no words came out. Finally he asked, “But what of Celebrían?”

“I explained that in the dream,” said Manwë, annoyed. “Celebrían found love with another, she asked for an annulment many years back and under the circumstances, it was granted. Thou must seek her out; she has much to explain to thee.” he paused. “Thou did not seriously consider thyself still married, didst thy?”

Elrond and Culurien looked at each other.

“My beloved child Elrond!” Manwë exclaimed. “Hast thou no skill in dream interpretation?”

“Apparently not,” said Elrond. “Why a dream, O great Manwë? Dreams are so vague, so sketchy, so easily influenced by outside stimulus. Why not a vision? I would have understood a vision, there are clear indications . . .”

“Elrond, my child,” interrupted Manwë. “Thou art the most beloved of all the children of Eru Ilúvatar, but thou hast one glaring fault. It is thy irritating tendency to mire thyself down in pedantics.”

Elrond’s jaw dropped. “But . . . but . . .”

“Now go,” Manwë said, winking at Culurien. “Or I shall never get to meet little Elanna and Elethîr.”*

Culurien looked at him in surprise. “You have named our children, Lord Manwë?”

“Nay, of course not,” said Manwë. “Their father has done it, as is his right.”

Culurien looked at Elrond in amazement, who reddened under her gaze. “You have already named our children? How could you do that without having seen them?”

“I have seen them,” Elrond explained, embarrassed. “In the dream.”

Culurien stared at him. “I hardly think . . . .”

“Hush, children, hush,” said Manwë, blessing them. “Gwanno ned sîdh.”*

Elrond and Culurien left the great hall in a daze. They walked down the steps towards their friends who awaited them nervously.

“So,” said Glorfindel, coming up to them. “How did it go?”

Elrond looked at him in silence for a long moment.

Then he started to laugh.

He laughed until the tears streamed down his face.

He laughed so hard that his sides ached.

He lay down on the ground, still laughing, all self control gone.

“I told you it would be a cheerful place,” Bilbo said to Frodo.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

*Elanna-star gift Elethîr-star face

*Go in peace.

~~***~~

When the cold of winter comes

Starless night will cover day

In the veiling of the sun

We will walk in bitter rain

But in dreams

I still hear your name

And in dreams

We will meet again

When the seas and mountains fall

And we come to end of days

In the dark I hear a call

Calling me there

I will go there

And back again.

~~~**~~~

Fran Walsh

Howard Shore


End file.
